


A Person Just For Me

by Phoenicia, snarkyscorp



Series: A Person Just For Me [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future Fish, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Chef Haruka, Fireman Makoto, M/M, makoharu fest RP club, theofficialmakoharufestival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 54,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenicia/pseuds/Phoenicia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkyscorp/pseuds/snarkyscorp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with an orange tree, and the Iwatobi winter catches fire.</p>
<p>AU - Tachibana Makoto is a fireman at the Iwatobi Station; Nanase Haruka is a chef at the Purple Cat Café and a recent transplant to the area.</p>
<p>Written as part of the RP Club for <a href="http://theofficialmakoharufestival.tumblr.com/">the Official MakoHaru Festival 2015</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the RP Club for [the Official MakoHaru Festival 2015](http://theofficialmakoharufestival.tumblr.com/) but as you can see, it grew legs and ran away with us. Please forgive the formatting (perspective designations have been removed for the AO3 version) and huge thank-yous to the fest mod for partnering us!
> 
> This chapter hits the themes of: cold sweater weather, don’t let go, waiting anxiously, mounting attraction, injured

 

It was an unusually warm day as Makoto made his way out of the Iwatobi Fire Station and waved to his friends and fellow firemen. They'd just placed an order for lunch at their favorite local café, and Makoto had been charged with the pick-up today. That was just fine with him. Since the café wasn't far, it gave Makoto a chance to clear his head and enjoy the sunshine on his skin.  
  
Being a firefighter meant incredibly long shifts coupled with intense physical activity, but for Makoto, it never felt like a chore. Some of the other guys complained about the hours or the near-constant momentum required to get through some of the bad days, but Makoto his job very much. It not only kept his mind active but his body too, and beyond that, he was helping people, something he long ago realized made him happiest. If he had to put himself in danger in order to help someone else escape it, then he'd do that without a second thought.

In half-uniform (a navy Iwatobi Fire Fighter t-shirt, grey uniform suspender pants with yellow stripes at the ankles, and boots), he felt a little out of place in the heat of the day, but heat meant the possibility that his job could turn serious. That alone kept him from complaining.

As he entered the café, he smiled at the usual server who greeted him and advised him that his food was just about ready.

"Thanks!" he said, smiling brightly. He waited in the small lobby area as usual, glancing towards the back, where he knew he might catch a glimpse of the mastermind behind the best Saba Shioyaki in Japan. Or at least, the best that Makoto had ever had. Not to mention, the place always had amazing chocolate desserts, one of which Makoto always got when it was his turn to pick up lunch.

 

 

The back of the kitchen at the Purple Cat café was a whirlwind of activity, though the eye of its storm remained calm and methodical. Nanase Haruka had been in Iwatobi for about five months since two significant milestones occurred in his life: graduating from culinary school and the untimely death of his grandmother. She left him her house in the sleepy seaside town, a house full of summertime memories learning to cook, and a pile of associated paperwork to finalize the transfer to him. Time and bureaucracy moved much slower on the Tottori coast than it had in Osaka, and seeing he needed to stay for a while he'd wandered into the quirky café on a whim when he saw their 'help wanted' sign. His pride hoped it was the saba that had gotten him hired, but in his heart he knew the crème brûlée had sealed the deal. Setting things on fire safely always carried more weight.

Regardless of the means of his employment, Haruka found the pace and the general vibe of Iwatobi suited him far more than Osaka's frenetic energy and huge population. Here, he tasted salt in every breath rather than smog, his open window brought breeze and peace at night instead of noise and chaos. Here, he had a busy job, but he went home every day feeling content and looking forward to the challenges of the next day. He soaked in his bathtub in the evening and thought about new recipes; the owner had given him charge over the kitchen, and with that went creating the daily specials. Gyuudon for next Wednesday? He needed to order extra beef on Monday, then. Green curry on Thursday? Be sure to have some extra chilies to package in for the firefighters, they like their curry a bit hotter.

Haruka closed the last takeout container for the firehouse's curry order, picking up a marker and drawing an orange tree in blossom on the top of it. He knew most of their names, even if he'd never spoken to them in person. The orange tree was Tachibana, a bit of a pun on his name. Haruka's own surname didn't lend itself to clever drawings as easily.

He packed the containers into two bags, dusting his hands off on his brown apron, and checked the order. The ticket said there should be one dessert, something chocolate, and the dessert he'd made that morning was a flourless chocolate torte, dense and impossibly rich. Haruka took the torte from the cooler, portioning out a large piece to go and adding whipped cream, a little drizzled hot fudge, and a sprinkle of cinnamon and cocoa powder to the top. This went into the second bag along with a small handwritten note: _be careful today_.

As he handed the bags through the window to the counter girl, he caught a glimpse of the orange tree himself. They hadn't met in person, but Haruka knew the firefighter on sight. He was tall and broad, furthering the tree metaphor, and he had a beautiful, kind smile. He was too far away to see his eyes, but the smile carried across the café with ease, so magnetic that it made not-smiling seem absurd and out of place. Haruka felt the edges of his mouth quirk up, slow and brief, and he lifted one hand in a small wave when Tachibana came forward to collect the order.

 

 

_Ah_. There he was! Makoto felt a sudden, stupid jolt of excitement pass through him. It was just, even though he had never really met the chef personally, the guy was obviously one of the best cooks in the world as far as Makoto was concerned, and you could learn a lot about a person from their food. For example, this particular chef didn't over-use seasonings like some of the other places did, and he used local ingredients, which Makoto appreciated. And beyond cooking style, he always left hopeful notes in there, like a mother might for a child going to school.  
  
All the other guys laughed at it, but Makoto... He had kept every single one. It seemed really mean to just throw them away, after the guy had put so much thought and care into them. And, well, they meant a lot to Makoto. It meant someone was watching out for him.

When the server brought over his bag, his smile widened, and he took a chance, waving to the chef in the back. "Thank you!!" he said, and even bowed a bit. The sight of that orange tree made his chest feel tight. Even if he'd never met the guy in person, Makoto already had a very high opinion of him. He didn't even check to make sure the order was right, just thanked the server (and from a distance, the chef too) and exited, the backs of his ears a little flushed.  
  
That day's note, _be careful today_ , joined the others in a folder in Makoto's locker at work. He smiled at it, thinking about the orange tree and the care the chef took in his preparations as he dug into the chocolate torte.

 

 

Haruka watched Tachibana go, chewing on the peculiar, melancholy warmth gnawing inside his chest. It felt foreign, as if something new had taken up residence in the space. He rubbed at the spot absently, finding he could ease it a little but never quite reach it.

"Something wrong, Nanase-san?" his kitchen assistant, a girl named Sakuno, asked.

"Nothing in particular," Haruka replied by rote. "Do we have any other takeout orders right now?"

"The bank called one in, they never miss green curry day, either. It was a good idea to add it to the daily specials rotation." Sakuno talked a lot, and thankfully she didn't expect reciprocal conversation most of the time. Haruka took more of the fresh curry paste out of the refrigerator, tossing a large lump of it and some oil into his favorite wok. "What made you settle on it instead of maze curry like in Osaka, since you're from there?"

Haruka shrugged, stir frying the paste. _It just seemed like something **he** would like._  
  
\--------------------------

The late season warm weather trickled off in a hurry, bringing the year to a close in a current of wet and windy. Haruka walked to work on quick feet in the mornings, plaid scarf and gloves everpresent in his ensembles. Despite not being a full-time bakery, the Purple Cat was taking orders for Christmas cakes and the wind swirling around him felt indicative of the inside of his head. Get enough strawberries from the suppliers - harder in Iwatobi than in Osaka - and possibly putting his own spin on it with either cream cheese or powdered sugar frosting? Maybe even a filled variety with strawberry sauce?

Even with all the arrangements finalized late that evening, Haruka worked after hours on inventory, ensuring they'd have plenty of ingredients. He flipped through recipes, both his own and from the internet, on his iPad, trying to find the perfect one. Would turning the frosting chocolate ruin the spirit of Christmas cake? He yawned, leaning his arms on the office's desk and continuing to scroll. He should really go home before he fell asleep......

Haruka awoke with a start, coughing heavily. A haze of smoke hung in the air and the air was filled with thick heat. He tried to breathe, coughing more, and dropped down onto his knees, crawling towards the door. It felt very hot to the touch, he flinched back from it, scooting on his backside towards the other side of the office. The door was the only way out but it was cooler and less choking over here.

He fumbled his phone out of his pocket, dialing 119. "Hello?" he rasped when the dispatcher answered. "I'm in the back of the Purple Cat café, and I think the kitchen is on fire. I can't get out."

 

 

The change in weather was something Makoto usually liked. The rainy, wet season was nice in a different way than the warm springs were in Iwatobi, and rainbows tended to feature in the horizons on lucky early mornings when the conditions were just right. It was a silly thing, to think that seeing a rainbow meant something special, but Makoto had sort of held onto that dream since he was a child, and anyway, it wasn't bad to wish for good luck. It wasn't that he wanted it for himself, but for his fellow firefighters, for his mother and father, his siblings, the chef at the Purple Cat café, the little old lady who always called the fire department because she needed someone to rescue her cats from a high tree.

It started out as such a good day that all Makoto could hope for was a good day for everyone else too.

Work was slow for the most part, so when the call came in, Makoto had been in the middle of telling one of the new recruits, Ryugazaki Rei, about his twin siblings, Ren and Ran.

"They sound like a handful, Tachibana-senpai," Rei said, shifting his glasses higher on his face.

Makoto laughed. "They are! But I don't think I could have asked for a better brother or sister. They're so _smart_ , you know? I can see them going into any field they want, when they're old enough."

Suddenly, the alarm went off, and Makoto practically leaped out of his chair. He glanced at the digital screen, which showed where on the map of Iwatobi they were needed - alarms didn't go off unless it was an actual emergency - and his face paled when he saw the dot on the cross streets. _The_ _café_.

"Are you all right?" Rei asked. His voice sounded very, very far away.

All Makoto could do was nod as he shrugged into the rest of his uniform. Rei was thankfully about to end his shift, so Makoto made him stay to clean up. He was so new; Makoto still didn't like the idea of having him out there in an actual fire. The rest of the team climbed aboard the fire truck, pulled out into the street, and sped down the small streets hastily towards their destination. Makoto's heart was pounding. All he could think was _please be all right please be all right_.

As the café came into view, Makoto's heart practically sank. The fire was intense, black smoke billowing from the back of the building. He didn't even wait for the truck to come to a complete stop - just jumped out when he felt he could land okay and rushed into the building, mask secured with trembling fingers as he fought through the whipping smoke, scanning the café to take note of anyone inside. So far, so good. At this time of night, who would still be there?

 

 

The office grew hotter, the door and walls still holding for now, but Haruka didn't think the materials could last much longer. He curled into a tighter ball in the opposite corner, head down in the hope of conserving his air. His throat felt like he'd swallowed live coals, his eyes stung and the stench of smoke was everywhere.

Some distant part of him acknowledged the likelihood that he would die here, but Haruka had never been one to waste time and effort bemoaning fate. Instead, his mind grew clouded with simple things, things he wanted to do.  
  
He wanted to race Rin one more time. Even though Rin had left years ago with Yamazaki for Australia and Olympic training, Haruka knew the water never felt more alive than when Rin swam in it with him.

He wanted to cook more, especially that chocolate variation on Christmas cake. He felt certain it would be a welcome alternative for some people.

He wanted...to actually speak with Tachibana. He wanted to know if that persistent throb in his chest meant something.

The small room got darker, more suffocating. Haruka fought for breath, choking on the smoke burning his lungs.  
  
_I wish I would have known your name._

 

"Main dining room is clear," Makoto called. Two other firefighters joined him after a minute, and they spread out to finish checking.

"Bathroom is clear," one of the others said.

"Storage area is clear," another said.

That left the kitchen, as far as Makoto could tell. "I'll finish the sweep - you guys get these flames down!" That was when Makoto heard it: a cough, weak and somewhat raw. It was coming from...from the kitchen? No. Further back. Panic rose in his chest - there must be a back office or something. Rushing towards the flames, Makoto fought through them, sweat beginning to pour down his face, and the stench of burning food flaring through the room. The other firefighters were beginning to put the worst of the flames out, but Makoto knew he still had to get to the back, through the worst of the fire, to help whoever was trapped back there.  
  
As much as he didn't want it to be the chef, Makoto couldn't help but wish it was his imagination and that he'd open the door and find the room empty altogether. No one should be back there at this hour. So when he heard another cough, the sound only cemented his resolve.

"Tachibana!!" someone yelled, but it was too late - Makoto was running, out of breath by the time he smashed against the fire-heated door and urged it open.  
  
The room beyond was filled with black, black smoke, soot already coating the walls in places, and across the room, through the mess of chaos, Makoto saw him. A small figure, curled up, his head lowered against his knees, the curve of his spine nearly still. Another surge of panic swelled up; Makoto didn't hesitate as he moved in and knelt, placing his mask over the man's face.

"Breathe," he urged him, quietly. "And hang on."

With that, Makoto lifted the young man into his arms. The guy wasn't small by anyone's standards - he had more muscle than Makoto had thought, only seeing him from afar - but Makoto didn't so much as struggle. He hefted him into his arms, cradled him against his chest, and raced out of the burning building as fast as his feet would allow. The added weight made it a struggle to run, and by the time they got outside, Makoto himself was feeling a little faint from the smoke he'd inhaled. But nevertheless, the chef was okay. He was breathing as Makoto knelt a safe distance away, leaning the young man up against a car.  
  
The EMTs would take it from here. Or they should have; Makoto couldn't find it in himself to leave the chef alone.

 

 

Time slowed to a crawl for Haruka, the entirety of the universe contained in the boundaries of each strained, smoke-filled breath, devoured by the blackness behind screwed-shut eyes. Consciousness slipped farther and farther away, the heat closing the walls of the office around him as life and sense ebbed away.

Until the universe shattered, what was once the office door splintering into debris and ash and _Tachibana_.

Haruka jerked in response to Tachibana's hands on him, to the sudden cold surge of oxygen into his starving lungs. He spasmed and coughed, thin fingers clinging to Tachibana's coat by reflex alone, barely aware of the arms around him and their desperate flight from the café. The heat lessened once they were outside and he shivered and coughed, burying further in the firefighter's grasp. Hard solidity replaced human support and he blinked soot-framed eyes at his savior.

"Good job, Tachibana." The paramedics swooped in, exchanging the firefighter's oxygen mask on Haruka for a medical one and starting protocols for shock and carbon monoxide poisoning. "The rest of your team is out and the building is confirmed clear. You probably need to get checked out as well, you want to ride along?"

His breathing and coughing grew less distressed and his eyes had slid closed, but the tips of Haruka's fingers still held the edge of Tachibana's coat.

 

 

The sight of those soot-lined eyes, still bluer than any ocean, staring up at him took Makoto's breath away. He remained close, kept his hands on the young man, made sure he was breathing the fresh, clean oxygen, and when a paramedic friend of his joined them and started to take him away, Makoto still couldn't bring himself to leave the man's side.

The young chef's fingers were curled in his coat, and even when his eyes closed, his grip was still strong and sure.  
  
It made Makoto feel as if the world had shattered. _Please be okay_ , he thought. _Please, God, let him be okay_.  
  
\--------------------------

Makoto rode along with them to the hospital, but not to get himself checked out - he simply wanted to be there when the young man came to. It would be bad enough to wake up in a hospital, but to wake up _alone_. Makoto simply couldn't allow it. So he didn't leave his side, except when hospital staff made him. And then he just paced like a lost puppy in the waiting area, knowing it would be okay but praying nonetheless. And when the chef was finally placed in a room to recover, Makoto was there, by his side, reaching for his hand. He told himself it was just to keep him company, to give him something tangible to cling to, but there was something else too, a desire to be close to him and try the only way he knew to keep him safe.

 

 

The next few hours passed in a series of blurs and blanks for Haruka. Tachibana's tall figure hovered in the edge of some of the blurs, and there were things Haruka wanted to say to him, to ask him, but any attempt at voice brought pain and fire and fierce shushing from a nurse. "Don't try to talk, Nanase-san, just breathe and relax. You've suffered significant smoke inhalation and you're receiving oxygen through a non-rebreather mask. You need to rest so that your throat can heal."

Despite the crisp, sterile scent of the oxygen, the smell of smoke lingered. Haruka wanted a bath, the water would surely do more to heal him than anything, but he drifted off before he could work out how to ask.

The next time he woke, the room was empty except for a nurse. She was fairly no-nonsense and explained a number of things to Haruka about his treatment and prognosis. Rest, oxygenate, and be observed for any complications. If he had any breathing difficulties, he'd be given additional medication to open his airways. The IV in his arm was for hydration - no substitute for drinking actual water, Haruka thought, but he had to admit swallowing would be difficult - and could also be used for administering any medicines. "You’re lucky, Nanase-san, your carbon monoxide levels didn't get high enough to necessitate a transfer to Kyoto for hyperbaric treatment, and you were able to protect your face and hands. There are some first-degree burns on the back of your left arm, your back and your left hip. That's why you're turned on your right side. Burns need air to heal, and even though they aren’t severe lying on them would be painful."

Haruka frowned but knew he couldn't complain; he was fortunate to be alive. A whiteboard hung on the wall with the nurse's name, the date, the phone number for his room, and some of the information she had given him about his condition. He pointed at it, then at himself, pantomiming writing.

"You want a board?" Haruka nodded, sleepy-eyed. "I think that can be arranged. It will make things easier for you. I'll bring one in, and I'll tell your friend he can come...back." The nurse tugged the light blanket up over Haruka's hips, unsurprised when he didn't stir. Sleep and oxygen were what he needed most. She shut the overhead light off and hastened down to the waiting room to let Tachibana know he could rejoin Nanase.  
  
The room was cold when he became aware again, but Haruka's hand was surrounded in warm, cradled in heat. His fingers twitched, flexing against the callused grasp holding them, keeping them safe and protected. He pulled in a reedy breath, eyes tentatively opening and fixing on his pale fingers, held like something precious in a tanned, strong, Tachibana hand. The firefighter had stayed? But, why? Tachibana was young, probably near Haruka's age, but he was no green recruit. Surely it wasn't customary to remain with a rescued citizen when medical care had been acquired?

Haruka blinked and studied his rescuer, selfishly glad Tachibana seemed to be anything but customary. While alone was a familiar state to him, something about Tachibana’s presence here brought Haruka much the same feeling as his open window and Iwatobi's salty air, and the warmth in his chest swelled into...comfort. He tugged a bit on the fingers holding his in lieu of making any noise.

 

 

Makoto hadn't realized he was so exhausted until he felt the tug against his fingers. He'd been dozing, apparently, because the instant something gripped him in turn, he jumped, snapping out of the haze of fatigue, green eyes wide and focused on the man in the bed before him.

"A-ah!! You're awake!" Makoto cheered, bringing his other hand over the one he held to cup it and give him a warm clasp. On the edge of his seat, a smile blossomed over his face. "Thank goodness!"

Relief flooded Makoto's chest, swelling in him with a surge. How good it was to see those blue eyes again. It almost made him tear up to know he was going to be okay.

 

 

Haruka's dark eyebrows leaped in surprise before lowering with concern, he hadn't meant to disturb or wake Tachibana. Didn't firefighters work brutally long hours? Surely he should be at the fire house or his home instead of here. He studied him in silence while Tachibana enveloped Haruka's hand in both of his, all but beaming.

Either Tachibana was recklessly stupid or...or he had something within him that Haruka had rarely, if ever, encountered: genuine, guileless kindness. People weren't inherently kind in his experience, they always had some deep, manipulative motivation, often concealed under a veil of 'nice' or marinated in plenty of convincing lies to hide the truth. Haruka didn't find stupid in the too-green eyes watching him, and he didn't think that his curry or his desserts were outstanding enough to risk life and limb for.

His mouth was hard to see under the mask, but the corners of Haruka's eyes softened. Somehow, something in him _knew_ Tachibana was the real thing. He pointed at Tachibana with his free hand, then at the floor, hoping to convey 'you're here'. A small upward quirk of eyebrow hopefully made it into a question. He bowed his head in Tachibana's direction in thanks, knowing how inadequate his wordless gratitude was but wanting to make the effort regardless.

Haruka pointed next at his throat, making a negating motion and a lift of shoulders approximating an apology for his silence. (Ironically, he rarely felt compelled to apologize when he chose not to speak - or simply walked away in the middle of an undesired conversation - but lacking the option to choose felt different.)

 

 

It had been a long time since Makoto had played charades, and he'd never had a partner that felt so easy to read. Maybe it was the circumstances; if this had been Kisumi, for example, Makoto would eventually get a real answer out of him after the game was over. Here and now, with this relative stranger, Makoto knew there were no options but to understand. It felt easy, somehow.

Finally, he let go of the hand he'd been clutching and nodded. "The nurse told me you might not be able to speak for a while. Until your throat heals." For a moment, Makoto sheepishly looked down at his hands, wringing them in his lap. If only he'd been there a few minutes sooner... But it was useless to dwell on a what-if scenario. Makoto didn't like wasting his life over-analyzing things. So he smiled again, head tipped slightly to the side and eyes squinted in the emotion. "You don't need to thank me! I'm just glad you're okay. I was really worried when I saw the state of that place. You were smart to move away from the door and try to cover yourself...."

Makoto's smile drifted a little. "Um, I'm sorry. I should introduce myself. I'm Tachibana Makoto. It's nice to officially meet you! Your food is so good that I feel like I know you a little already."

 

 

Haruka's eyes narrowed and he made a small shake of his head; Tachibana had no reason to blame himself. It was because of his actions that Haruka was alive; so what if he couldn't talk for a while? Tachibana didn't seem to need spoken words to understand him.

He propped himself up on his right arm, blue eyes following Tachibana's every move. Haruka wasn't sure how to convey that he hadn't been particularly smart being there in the first place, and his body had sort of gone on autopilot when he woke up to the smoke. It didn't stop the warmth from Tachibana's eyes from settling on him, touching him, pressing deep into Haruka's chest. Tachibana said he had been worried and Haruka believed him; the little smudge of soot under his left eye hinted that he hadn't left the hospital.

Makoto. Tachibana's name was Makoto. Haruka mouthed it beneath the mask, one syllable at a time, rolling it silently on his tongue as he tasted it: 'Ma-ko-to'. The heart monitor gave a slight jump, not enough to bring the nurse, and Haruka hoped Tachibana... _Makoto_ hadn't noticed.

He glanced beyond Makoto at the tiny table, catching sight of the small whiteboard and dry-erase pen. Haruka reached with his free hand, fingers brushing Makoto's, then pointing at the board on the table. His finger flowed, indicating writing. Makoto was surprisingly good at reading the things he couldn't say, but there was no way he could get across something like his own name in abstract gestures.

And it felt very selfish to have Makoto's name curled inside his mouth and not share his own. He moved stiffly into a sitting position, careful to slant his burns away from the mattress, and held his hands out for the board. The oxygen bag on his mask slowly deflated as he breathed in, inflating from the flow as he studied Makoto, tapping the pen against the bare white surface. Haruka pulled the cap off, setting marker to board in a series of squeaks as he wrote.

He turned the board to Makoto, pointing to the three sets of symbols he'd written. Which one was how to write Makoto's name? The first was the more common writing for Makoto as a female name, the second for Makoto as a masculine name, the third was simply Ma-ko-to in hiragana.

 

 

"O-oh, be careful!" Makoto worried, reaching out for him before he realized it was the whiteboard on the table he wanted. A little hurriedly, he retrieved it, trying not to overthink the brush of fingers against his own. Instead, he patiently waited for the board to be turned towards him.

Honestly, he'd been hoping to get the young man's name. He'd never quite heard it before in the café, and it felt surreal to think he had nearly died without Makoto knowing it.

He laughed at the sight of what was actually on the board though. "This one," he said, tapping the female version in kanji. "I know it's very strange, since that's a female name, but, well." His mother had once told him that she gave him that name because it meant pure and genuine. Still, he'd never forget the looks he got on his first day at the station when he wrote his name in introduction. He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck and only realizing then that he should have showered before sitting down in here; he still smelled like the fire and his hair felt brittle with dried sweat. "May I ask the name of my favorite chef in all of Japan?" he asked, hoping that wasn't too forward, but he didn't think he could wait another second to know it. To say this man's name out loud.

 

 

He didn't speak, but something in Haruka's eyes said without words, _it isn't strange at all, Makoto._ He committed the two kanji to memory and erased the board, liking the connection it brought them. Amazing, how he rarely bothered to initiate conversations with people, but remove his voice from the equation and he felt near to bursting with things to say.  
  
His eyes widened at Makoto's request, then they cut down to the side. _Don't say embarrassing things_. The mask made it hard to see, but Haruka felt heat collecting in his face. He began the strokes of two quick kanji to comprise Nanase without looking up, pausing three strokes into the kanji for his first name. 'Distance' was its meaning, and even though it was a fairly accurate description of him...he didn't want to introduce himself to Makoto (Makoto the pure, Makoto the genuine, meet Haruka the distant, Haruka the remote) that way.

Stubbornly, he scrubbed out the strokes, settling for the simple katakana of Ha-ru-ka. 'I don't like my name a lot,' he wrote under it, not quite sure why he was explaining. 'If it's in kana, it doesn't have to have a meaning, it's just a word.'

 

 

Makoto did feel...a little guilty. He hadn't meant to be so forward, but he didn't apologize for it. He had been wanting to know this man's name for a while now, and he would take this as fate pushing him out of his comfort zone to ask for it now. What if he never got another chance? And anyway, he was....really beautiful. When he blushed like that. Despite the mask and the burns and the cheap hospital gown, he still had the most beautiful face.

"Ah, _Haruka_ ," he said, sounding out the katakana with a smile. Secretly, he already treasured the name, letting it run through his head in a mantra of affection. "I understand, Nanase-kun. Names are very important, although I for one don't think there's anything wrong with yours. In fact, I like it. I'd been wondering, ever since you started drawing those orange trees in bloom on my takeout boxes how I could learn your name in turn. May I?" He would take the whiteboard if Haruka let him, and he tried his hand at the kanji he guessed Haruka hadn’t wanted to write. It was the less common version, but it seemed fitting given its definition. It gave him a rush realizing it was a feminine form as well. "Is this it?"  
  
He hoped it was. That gave them something in common, and Makoto wanted another reason to stay by Haruka's side. And it was sort of fitting, actually. Despite its meaning as 'distance' or 'far-off', Haruka had that air about him, as someone who kept his feelings close to his chest. Nanase, on the other hand, was such a beautiful sentiment to him. Haruka's eyes were like water, like rapids.

 

 

Hearing his name in Makoto's light, gentle voice was overwhelming. For once, he didn't hate it; even the sound became pleasant when Makoto said it. Despite being a girl's name, in Makoto's voice it had power, it had strength. It felt... _more_...precisely what 'more' was Haruka couldn't quite explain, only that he wanted to hear it again and again.

This was absurd. Surviving a fire had addled his mind, that had to be it. Haruka simply didn't _connect_ with people this way, this easily. He didn't know how, it was too much of a bother, it took effort he wasn't willing to make.

And yet here was Tachibana Makoto, his large fingers sketching out a kanji all too familiar, and as opposed to feeling annoyed or bothered by the sight of it, Haruka felt...free. He nodded, Makoto had chosen the top radical correctly, even though it was the less-common variant.

Haruka circled his given name with his finger, then made an X through his last name, tacit permission for Makoto to call him that instead. He took back the marker and jotted down a quick sentence. 'Nanase-kun sounds like I'm still in school.'

He held Makoto's gaze for a long moment, feeling no need to look away. 'What', Haruka finally wrote in the first blank space he could find, 'was your favorite?'

 

 

It was so strangely easy to communicate with Haruka, even though Makoto was the only one actually speaking. The cross through _Nanase_ made sense, but it still shocked Makoto a little, the permission to be that intimate so quickly so freely given. Until Haruka further explained; then, Makoto laughed, rubbing the back of his neck again.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I'll call you _Haruka_ from now on, but only if you'll call me Makoto in return. That is, when you get your voice back."

That was a strange bargain, and maybe he was pushing his luck hoping that Haruka would even want to talk to him when he felt better - maybe he was bothering him by constantly appearing at his side - but Makoto had to hope.

He looked up again just in time to read what Haruka had written on the board, and it took him a moment. "My... favorite...?" His favorite what? It was a subject switch, probably, but it wasn't immediately clear to what. Then, he realized. "Of your food!! Oh! Well, let's see..." It was such a difficult question that it made Makoto laugh again. "Your desserts. I know that's silly, for a grown man to enjoy sweets so much, but there's something about the way you make them." He lifted his hands. "I mean, everything you cook is outstanding. Your saba, Haruka! And the curry special you had a while back. That was another favorite." He brushed his hair back anxiously. "I guess you could say I'm a fan of everything Haruka-chan creates."

 

 

Behind his impassive exterior, Haruka felt much of the same trepidation Makoto did, not entirely sure why he'd given Makoto permission to call him by a name he didn't like. Most everyone called him Nanase in one form or another; 'Haruka' was a privilege granted to few outside of family and none thus far in Iwatobi. Rin had permission, but Rin was a sirocco, hot and overpowering, and he’d have done what he wanted regardless of permission; had it been three years since they'd seen each other in person or only two?

Nevertheless, it had felt _right_ , as if some part of the universe previously out of alignment had slotted into perfect place, bringing things at last into balance. The balance solidified with Makoto's quid pro quo: granting the same leave to Haruka in matters of name. He had no idea how long it would take to recover his voice, but that was plenty of time to practice shaping the three syllables until he could speak them out loud. He nodded agreement, accepting Makoto's terms without reluctance. Tachibana became _Makoto_ to him the moment he introduced himself.

Haruka watched Makoto talk about food, drawn in and mesmerized by his open honesty. He loved desserts, even though he was a little embarrassed by it. He loved the curry, the one Haruka had simply _known_ he would. He...he loved saba. Haruka's saba.

Haruka knotted a fist over his heart, certain that it was going to just hiccup out of his chest with delight and glee. Makoto had no business being this _amazing_ , making Haruka feel this _needed_ , this _special_. He felt light-headed, certain his face was in full flame from Makoto's praise. How could he say such things without hesitating, without choosing his words one by one?

He shook his dark head, writing a quick 'don't use -chan with my name, it really makes me sound like a girl. Just Haruka is fine.' Haruka paused, considering what he might make next to see that excitement on Makoto's face. 'Crepes?' His body curled with a sudden, jaw-cracking yawn, smothering his hand over the mask out of habit.

 

 

"Sorry, _just Haruka_ ," Makoto said, the stupid joke making him flush a little. He hoped it came across lightly enough as a tease; the very last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing to make this beautiful young man become distant with him. It was so refreshing, to sit with someone and communicate so openly. Makoto had a large number of friends, sure, but none of them were on the kind of level he'd always wanted, someone who could finish his sentences and spend endless days beside without feeling overwhelmed. It was like a missing puzzle piece had finally slid into place.

The laughter faded a bit, along with his imminent happiness at the idea that Haruka would make crepes next - he could only imagine how amazing they'd be! - when he saw him curl and yawn like that. Immediately, Makoto realized he was being incredibly selfish and bothersome. Who wanted to talk about _work_ while they were lying in a hospital bed?

"I-I'm sorry," he apologized again. "I should let you get some rest." He hesitated, looking down into his lap for a moment, unsure if he should push his luck. Things could end here, and really, that would be more than he deserved, wouldn't it? To have learned Haruka's name. To have held his hand. And yet, Makoto couldn't help wanting more. "....but if you want, I could come back again." He chanced a look up, to gauge Haruka's reaction. "Maybe bring you something - do you like puzzles? We could do one together." Oh, god, now Haruka would think he was just a lonely man who liked puzzles! But he was flustered. All he wanted was one more minute by Haruka's side.

 

 

Haruka shook his head, hoping that it conveyed what he meant: that Makoto had nothing to apologize for. If Haruka didn't want him here, Makoto would know! He sent a frustrated thought at his body for daring to be tired when everything felt so right and wonderful. Said body returned its displeasure at being denied a bath with a second yawn.

He frowned, rubbing the heel of one hand against an eye, and scrubbed everything from the board except where Makoto had written the single kanji for Haruka's name. That, strangely enough, he wanted to keep. 'I'm tired now, but I'd like it if you came back. When you're not busy and if you want to,' he added, because Makoto had an important job that probably didn't allow for a lot of hospital visitation. His hand hesitated, debating whether to write more and finally jotting down 'Would you stay until I fall asleep?' It sounded so needy, so desperate to be spoiled, and Haruka looked away, fighting the urge to erase it and pretend he'd never said it.

He breathed out a soft sigh of relief when Makoto agreed to stay, glad in ways he lacked the words to express even inside his head. 'I have something else I want to write, but...don't read it until I'm asleep. Please.' Writing things down came a little easier than saying them out loud, but Haruka didn't think he was even in the city limits of his normal comfort zone. Makoto, however...something about him seemed to exist outside of all of Haruka's rules. He should bother him, he should annoy him, he wasn't at all the type of person Haruka viewed as 'compatible', but seeing him felt like sunshine on the ocean, warm and comfortable and a place he could float and drift forever.

Again he erased everything but Makoto's Haruka-kanji, writing quickly and turning the board over. He hesitated, fingers tensing on the edges, before thrusting at Makoto, shaking it once in a clear demand for it to be taken. _Not until I'm asleep_ , Haruka's eyes said. He yawned once more, scooting down to lay on his right side, hand tucked mostly underneath the pillow and thumb gently touching the sharp angle of his jaw. He blinked heavily, blue eyes watching Makoto until they slid closed and didn't reopen.

 

 

"Of course!" Makoto said, in response to Haruka's question of staying. Haruka looked embarrassed by his own question, but Makoto didn't see anything wrong with it. He'd never been in the hospital for anything serous, so he couldn't begin to imagine what it must feel like. How scared Haruka might be. Who would want to be alone through that sort of ordeal? More than that, Makoto would have asked to stay if Haruka hadn't done so first. Maybe it was presumptuous but at least now he knew his gut feelings were on par with Haruka's.

That next bit confused Makoto a little. He couldn't read the board until Haruka fell asleep? Despite not understanding, he accepted the board with a nod. "I promise," he agreed, nodding sincerely with the kind of look on his face like Haruka had just asked him to take care of his sick dog.

Fully committed, Makoto watched those big blue eyes blink slowly, heavily, and he felt a pang of _something_ in him when Haruka curled onto his side. His lips gently parted, his chest swelled under the blanket and hospital gown, and he looked... He looked so small. Makoto had to swallow back the immediate urge to tuck him in.  
  
He waited a good fifteen minutes, until he was sure that Haruka's heavy, steady breathing meant he was asleep, and then stood from the chair with a stretch. He nearly dropped the whiteboard, which reminded him: Haruka had written something for him. Turning the board over, Makoto's eyes widened slightly and a lump gathered in his throat.  
  
_I don't really have friends in this town, so I appreciate you being here for me, Makoto. Thank you for saving me. You look tired, too, so go home and rest._  
  
That wasn't it, though. What really got Makoto was the thing that was written down at the bottom in smaller print, sort of an afterthought: _I like puzzles with water scenes. And orange trees_. Beside the script, Haruka had drawn an orange tree in blossom, the same thing he always drew on Makoto's take-out boxes. Looking down at Haruka, Makoto couldn't bring himself to leave for a time. Yes, he was tired. Yes, he needed to get home, to sleep, but...but _God_ he could have sat there for days on end if it meant Haruka would draw another orange tree for him.

Feeling stupid, overwhelmed with an emotion he couldn't name, Makoto gently erased everything but the kanji he noticed Haruka kept and the orange tree in blossom. Somehow, they looked good next to one another. Between them, he wrote: _Good morning, Haruka! I will be back to see you as soon as I can! Please get lots of rest. -Makoto_  
  
Setting the board face-up where Haruka would see it when he woke up, Makoto finally took his leave. When he got home, he checked his account online and decided something: he had a lot of unused vacation days, and it was about time he used some of them.

 

Haruka had been both pleased and a little disappointed when he woke up at last and there was no Makoto in the chair beside the bed. He had no idea when he'd gone to sleep the previous day; he normally wasn't a deep sleeper but once the fatigue hit him he was out without moving for hours. Makoto's message on the whiteboard felt like a promise, one that made it easier to endure the various indignities of hospital life. Nobody _liked_ peeing into a bottle, but when the nurse began explaining the alternative in excruciating detail it suddenly seemed a minor inconvenience. The doctor came early, removing the oxygen mask to examine his throat. Haruka's trachea was still swollen and inflamed but the doctor agreed it was best to wait another day to determine if intubation would be necessary to keep it from swelling shut. She wanted Haruka to remain on the non-rebreather for two more days, at which point if he wasn't intubated or having respiratory distress they would try a nasal cannula with him. They also wanted him to eat, though very little sounded appealing; miso broth and weak green tea appeared on a tray about half an hour later. Without the normal seaweed and the scallions, the broth was salty and drinkable, the tofu all but dissolving in its heat. It wasn't saba, but it satisfied what little hunger he had and his body accepted it without giving it back. Small steps.

The doctor also had called his parents to inform them and discuss his prognosis with them. They were in Vietnam on business but understandably concerned, promising to come to Iwatobi as soon as they returned to Japan in two weeks for hatsumode. They arranged all of the insurance and payment necessities for him, and Haruka was relieved to have it out of the way. Not being able to talk made many things difficult, not the least of which was tending to necessary business. Since Haruka's phone and iPad were casualties of the fire, they ordered new ones for him; Iwatobi being a small town, the store was able to deliver them to the hospital. Haruka poked at the shiny phone on the overbed table; he missed his old one. He'd had the same one since he was 14. It never broke, so he hadn't seen the need to replace it. All new things to learn, menus and apps and stuff that made his head spin. Too much effort, he thought, pushing it to one side. Once he figured out how to get his contacts back on the phone, he should message Rin. 'There was a fire. I'm not dead.' Haruka nodded sagely; that should tell Rin all he needed to know.

Not long after he finished his soup and tea, the owner of the Purple Cat arrived. Kawamura Naomi was probably in her fifties, widowed, the building one of several properties left to her by her late husband. She gathered Haruka in a hug that smelled of powder and Chanel No. 5, stroking his hair and uncaring that he still was smoke-scented. "I'm so glad you're all right, Nanase-san. The fire investigator thinks it was electrical wiring that started it, and then it caught the kitchen equipment in the blaze. Don't worry, once everything is cleared the Cat will be rebuilt. There are too few places and too few wonderful chefs in Iwatobi to just give up." She gently squeezed him again, pulling back and smoothing his hair. "You just leave everything to me and focus on getting better." Haruka nodded, thankful that he'd still have a job when everything was said and done. He enjoyed the restaurant a lot, like so many things in Iwatobi it felt like _home_ to him. "We'll start a new Purple Cat tradition of Christmas cakes on our reopening day. Who says sponge cake is only for December?" Kawamura-san laid a bag on the overbed table from the art supplies store, containing a sketchbook, some pencils, and a small spiral-bound notebook. "The Cat will also need a new logo for the rebuild, and I think it should only be made by you."

She blew him a kiss as she left, yielding the room to a nurse with a basin of hot water and a sponge. Haruka thought he just might cry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto brings puzzles and the pieces begin fitting together. Christmas comes to Iwatobi Hospital with confusion and new feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as part of the RP Club for [the Official MakoHaru Festival 2015](http://theofficialmakoharufestival.tumblr.com/) but as you can see, it grew legs and ran away with us. Please forgive the formatting (perspective designations have been removed for the AO3 version) and huge thank-yous to the fest mod for partnering us!
> 
> This chapter hits the themes of: injury, mounting attraction

 

Perhaps it would be a surprise to Haruka but Makoto came by the very next afternoon. He took the day off from work and spent the morning scouring Iwatobi for puzzles that contained water and/or orange trees. It was impossible to find both, so Makoto wound up entering the small hospital room with a brown bag that contained six different puzzles. He knew it was overkill, that maybe Haruka was just being polite, but still, he couldn't resist the thought of completing some or all of them with Haruka. Spending hours beside him.  
  
Was that okay, to want such a thing? The question had kept him up half the night.

"Hello, Haruka!" he announced as he walked in. "How are you feeling? I, ah, brought some puzzles, but... well, there are quite a lot of them..." And yes, surely, Haruka would think he was one of those kinds of lonely men now.

 

  
The mask's bag fluttered peacefully with each breath as Haruka dozed, the afternoon sun warm through the window even though it was cold outside. He was back on his right side, fingers furled in the hem of the blanket and bare toes peeking out from underneath it. The sponge bath and the morning's visitors had worn him out and the nurses had let him sleep undisturbed for the past few hours. Still, even in sleep Makoto's voice reached him, guiding him with care back to consciousness with its magnetic pull. He blinked, eyes opening slowly and relaxing into a lazy smile. _Makoto_. One word, three syllables, wrapping around him like a magical spell. He raised one hand in a tentative wave, not having voice with which to acknowledge him, and gestured for him to come closer.

How was he feeling? Clean. It hadn't been a real bath, but the sensation of sponge over skin had been unmistakably good. The bag in Makoto's hands crinkled and Haruka felt himself laugh deep inside, not from humor but some other sensation, new and a little peculiar. It felt warm and potent, gentle even when it surged. Fondness? Maybe that was the word, Haruka didn't know that he'd felt genuinely _fond_ before, but something about Makoto's unassuming, awkward-eager smile, the self-conscious way he flexed his fingers, the green color of his eyes Haruka itched to paint stirred up this warmth, this craving for _more_.

He looked at the overbed table, measuring it with his eyes versus the other table in the room. He pointed to the box, raising an eyebrow in question: where would the puzzles best fit? What piece of the outside world had Makoto brought in here for him? This was better than flowers or plants or even the traditional fruit, because this gave him something from Makoto which could not be bought: time.

 

 

Makoto's smile grew a little unsure. He hadn't even thought about the size of the puzzles when he'd bought them. In his mind, subject matter had been far more important, and now... Would they even be able to do them here? He glanced at the other table across the room, which would have been perfectly suited for puzzles, but...

"We can start it here," Makoto said, gesturing to Haruka's pull-out table. The very last thing Makoto wanted was to inconvenience Haruka. Makoto was here to help him pass the time, not to wear him out, and certainly crossing the room all that way wouldn't be good for a man in his condition, right? Makoto felt a little feverish though, because he'd either have to lean over Haruka's lap to place pieces or he'd have to sit somewhere on the bed with him.

The choices were, simply put: not ideal.

"Ah, I hope you like them." Slowly, Makoto pulled out the puzzles to show Haruka, one-by-one. There was one of a famous hot spring, one of a waterfall with a pool below it, some rapids, and even one that had an orchard of orange trees, some of them in bloom. "Your choice, of course."

 

 

Haruka eyed both tables, thinking the other one was better. Without hesitating, he rang his call button, dropping the buzzer into his lap so he could see the puzzles. As long as the oxygen tubes would reach, he saw no reason why he couldn't sit at the table.

 _This one!_ His hand touched the box with the waterfall as soon as he saw it, and he looked at the others. His stomach did a little flip-flop when Makoto revealed the orange trees. He patted that box as well, pointing back to the waterfall and holding up one finger, then the orange trees and holding up two: this one first, that one second. _Is there anything you can't do, Tachibana Makoto?_ The fondness pressed up against his rib cage, mewling and pawing to break through. His hand seemed to move on its own, a butterfly seeking a flower, ready to alight on the tanned hand holding the box.

The nurse opened the door and Haruka jerked his hand back as if he'd been caught doing something naughty. "Yes, Nanase-san?"

Haruka rubbed his palms on his gown, collecting himself. He pointed at the puzzle box, then at the table, then himself. He tugged at the clear tubes that supplied oxygen, tilting his head to make it a question.

"You want to go to the table? And you want to know if your oxygen will reach?" Haruka nodded, pleased she had understood him on the first try. His luck with the nurses was hit or miss. "Those tubes should be 5m in length, so I think you're good. Let me help you. Do you want your pajama pants first?" His dark head nodded fiercely, heat coloring his face much to the nurse's amusement. She helped him to slide the pants under the blanket and pull them up, turning the hospital gown into a much less exposed state of being. "Your IV pole is already on the correct side of the bed, it's no fun when it all gets tangled."

Haruka couldn't articulate just how much it stung his pride for Makoto to see him being helped out of bed onto shaky (but now covered) legs. Makoto, who was tall and strong and _perfect_ and didn't have to take tiny, hesitant steps. Makoto, who didn't jump when Haruka caught his elbow for support on his other side.

There was enough slack in the oxygen tubes for Haruka to sit in the chair closest to the bed. He winced, the burns hurt if he tried to lean back too much. The nurse stacked a couple of pillows there, which helped immensely; sitting still wasn't very comfortable, but the freedom to have moved was worth it. Haruka didn't like being contained.

"Would you boys like something to drink? Nanase-san, I believe you're limited to tea and water for now, but would you like a soda, Tachibana-san?"

 

 

Makoto had enough sense to turn away, the backs of his ears burning, when the nurse moved to help Haruka with his pants. He pretended to fiddle with putting the other puzzles away, even though it took much longer than it should have. When he heard the mattress shifting, he glanced back in time to see Haruka with his pale feet on the floor, taking the smallest of winced steps as the nurse helped him.

Maybe Makoto leaned in close to offer or maybe Haruka would have taken his elbow either way, but Makoto liked to think they'd both moved at the same time. He gave his health as a crutch for Haruka, assisting the nurse in getting him over to the table but looking altogether sweaty himself from the short journey. Mostly because he wasn't sure he'd taken a breath at all from worry.

"Ah, thank you!" Makoto said, turning his attention briefly to the nurse with a broad, easy smile. "I would love a tea, if that's what Haruka is having." Despite how childish that sounded, to want something because his new friend was having it too, Makoto didn't seem to notice. He brought the first puzzle over and began to open the box as he sat across from Haruka. Once the nurse had left to retrieve drinks, he murmured, "You look so much better today, you know. I'm glad to see you got some rest." He spilled the puzzle pieces over the table, setting the box aside so they could see what they were working on. "It really scared me. Seeing you in that fire. I can't say how grateful I am that the station I work at was just down the street." He smiled, brightly, up at Haruka. "I thought you would like this puzzle. The water looks real, doesn't it?"

 

 

Haruka shrugged, he hadn't seen a mirror since he'd been in the hospital, and his general daily interactions with one consisted of seeing if his hair was sticking up and flossing his teeth. He did appreciate Makoto's concern, and likewise he was glad to see the firefighter had slept as well. Today he wore a brown sweater that picked up the hazel flecks in his eyes, adding even more warmth to his normal gaze. Haruka reached for the table, turning the puzzle pieces right side up. His hand brushed Makoto's in the process and rather than shying away his thin fingers grasped around Makoto's wrist, stilling his torrent of words with an intense blue gaze.

_You don't have to be scared now, Makoto. I'm all right. You saved me and I'm glad._

Haruka's fingers squeezed in encouragement, releasing Makoto's wrist with a small pat. The smile that pushed away any darkness made Haruka curl his fingers around a puzzle piece, pierced by a nameless sort of want. Tachibana Makoto's smiles...were a powerful and amazing thing, addictive. From the first one he saw, across the restaurant, Haruka desperately wanted to see more, to hoard them like dragon treasure. He took a corner piece and found a border piece that connected to it, shifting more of the border pieces into a group. That always made it easier.

He bit his lower lip and nodded, fingers making a reverent stroke over the picture on the box. This...even significant looks couldn't convey, so Haruka reached for the whiteboard, reluctantly erasing Makoto's message from the day before. 'My first love was a waterfall. My parents took me hiking...and I'd never seen anything so amazing.' That sounded sort of odd, even for him, Haruka thought, but it didn't occur to him to fear being misunderstood. This was _Makoto_ , and _Makoto_ would somehow understand. The thought pulsed with conviction in his chest, tripping in time with his rapidly-beating heart.

The nurse came back with two cans of tea and a straw for Haruka. He shook his, popping the top and poking the straw into the hole. Carefully, he tipped the bottom of the mask up just enough to fit the straw in his mouth, sucking down the tea with a soft noise of delight. He had to take small drinks and small swallows, his throat still ached and burned, but the hydration was painful pleasure.

 

 

Makoto went stiff as Haruka's hand found his, squeezed around his wrist. Something like fireworks went off in Makoto's chest, pangs of pain that were both exquisite and torturous. He couldn't help but look up, meet the blue-ocean eyes across from him, and sink into them. Slowly, he even felt like he was physically falling forward, like if Haruka pulled, he'd follow him anywhere.  
  
Then, the touch was gone, and Makoto....

He felt like the world was spinning too fast. Thankfully, that was when Haruka began writing on the whiteboard, so it gave Makoto a minute to compose himself. Too many feelings, too many emotions, too many desires, all hurdling so fast through his heart in a whirlwind. He'd never honestly felt like this before, and it was frightening. He barely knew Haruka. Haruka was a _guy_ , and while the thought of being gay wasn't something Makoto would stress over, he couldn't imagine he was lucky enough to find a man like Haruka and have him be that way too.  
  
It all seemed so impossible. And yet there Haruka sat, right there across from him, writing beautiful things on the whiteboard.

Makoto laughed, not a mean laugh _at_ Haruka but a gentle, understanding laugh as he thanked the nurse for the tea and rested his cheek against his hand, elbow on the table. His free hand absently messed with some of the pieces, but he was more focused on Haruka, on the brief sight of his parched lips curling around the straw, and the look of relief that crossed his face when he drank.

"Nature can be really beautiful, Haruka," he said. "And somehow, water suits you, so it makes sense that your first love was a waterfall." Makoto didn't even sound phased by it; he wasn't. It really was fitting.

 

 

Haruka swallowed the last of his tea, somewhat oblivious to Makoto's scrutiny. He fitted the mask back to his face with some reluctance, though the higher concentration of oxygen definitely made it easier for him to breathe.

Until he looked across the table, losing breath altogether. The sunlight worshipped Makoto's hair, sending threads of liquid gold through the brown, and the corona against the back of his head made those peridot eyes stand out and sparkle. His cheek sat nestled in one hand, another angelic smile lifting the corners of his generous mouth. Haruka didn't mean to stare, but Makoto was so compelling to look at...he couldn't help himself. He could watch Tachibana Makoto for days and never feel bored.

 _Not only nature is beautiful...Makoto._ Beautiful was a relative stranger knowing how to interpret Haruka's silences, how to read his face and eyes. Beautiful was a paper sack full of puzzles. Beautiful was a collection of small kindnesses that really weren't small at all.

Beautiful was understanding and acceptance, freely given, even for the tale of a first-love waterfall.

Haruka shifted in his chair, turning his focus back to the puzzle. He connected a series of border pieces together, putting to the side the ones that wouldn't fit, and watching Makoto discreetly, puzzling over him in much the same way as the incomplete picture. The whiteboard lay to one side and Haruka made a quick notation on it, turning it for Makoto to read. 'Would you tell me more about yourself? I like listening.'

 

 

Makoto concentrated on the puzzle for a time. He saw that Haruka was working on the bottom corner, so he tried to focus on the top, but he realized his fingers kept searching for middle pieces instead, so he eventually gave in to the urge to work from the middle out. Normally, the object was to get the puzzle done quickly. And if that had been Makoto's aim, he certainly would have worked with Haruka to do the outside first, then work in. But he was having a hard time fitting the pieces together, and he realized belatedly that it was because he wanted to make this last for as long as possible.  
  
That almost seemed unfair, but then the whiteboard was held up and that took Makoto's attention away from any ulterior motives.

"Hah, we are well suited then, because I don't mind talking," Makoto said, a little color in his cheeks. "Let's see, something about myself..." There were a lot of things he could tell Haruka, but suddenly his entire life seemed really boring and uneventful. "I was born here in Iwatobi and have lived here all my life. I have a younger brother and sister, who are very important to me. They’re twins." He fingered a puzzle piece absently, scratching it against his chin in thought. "I work a lot, but I really love my job, because I get to help people all day, and it's rewarding. When I have spare time, I...."  
  
There was the catch. He didn't really have much spare time. Between family and work, he kept himself very busy. And though he'd never disliked that about himself before, now it seemed odd. Like maybe Haruka would see that he was really a very boring individual after all.

"I like sports. I'm nothing special, but I'm on our station's basketball team. In high school, I swam for Iwatobi Swimming Club, but we didn't have many members, so it was more of a fun activity than anything serious." His face was getting a little pink, but suddenly he wanted to tell Haruka everything about himself, from birth to now. "I don't like scary movies or, ah, really anything scary! I'm a wimp when it comes to that sort of thing, I guess."

That really should have been enough. It was a lot to take in, but Haruka said he liked listening, so Makoto just kept talking, filling the silence as he finally worked a piece of the middle of the puzzle together.

"I'm twenty-two years old. I went straight into work after school, because I already knew what I wanted to do, and the younger you are, the more time you have to mature in a field like this. If you start too old, you might wear yourself out quickly, whereas I still have a lot of momentum and energy. It's also easier to train and stay healthy when you're young."  
  
Makoto worked another puzzle piece in slowly. Was he babbling now?

"I really like desserts and sweets, and, ah, I don't appear to be very good at puzzles!"

 

 

As Makoto spoke, filling the space between them with personal narrative in that boyish tenor voice (a voice Haruka initially didn't think suited his large frame, but the more he listened the better it fit who Makoto really was rather than how he looked), Haruka found himself absorbed. Utterly absorbed. It didn't surprise him to learn Makoto was an older brother, nor that he had always lived in Iwatobi. He lacked the city-cynicism Haruka knew he himself possessed, his entire countenance lit up when he talked about his siblings and his job. The puzzle came together and so did the picture of Makoto: selfless, giving, dedicated, supportive. Too good to be real, but he _was_ real: sitting in Haruka's hospital room, dutifully assembling the middle part of the waterfall puzzle. He had a wonderful family, a busy career, and friends - he hadn't mentioned any specific ones, but Haruka didn't think anyone who met Makoto would not wish to be his friend - but he was _here_ , with Haruka, instead of those other places with other people. That knot he'd been calling 'fondness' tightened, pulsing, and started unfurling, growing...changing.

Haruka dropped the piece he was holding, hand involuntarily slamming down onto the table, sending several pieces jumping. His eyes were huge, shimmering with a hope and desire that felt ready to tear his skin apart to get out. Fondness sharpened and gentled both, resolving into a need-want that burned like the fire in his throat: Makoto...swam. _Makoto swam!_ Haruka pointed at him, feeling near-drunk as he did, then he moved his hands in what approximated swimming. He nodded fiercely, pointing at himself with emphasis: _me too!_ Haruka's vibrant eyes swept over Makoto until he pointed with certainty at Makoto's back; it had to be backstroke. Makoto's shoulders were so strong and developed, it suited him perfectly.

With a start, Haruka realized he'd been doing the silent equivalent of talking too much and he huffed a sigh at himself and his single-mindedness, fogging the mask briefly with irritation. More subdued now, self-conscious and looking down at the table, he pointed at himself and flashed two fingers twice; he was also twenty-two.

 

 

It startled Makoto when Haruka spasmed like that, and he reached out involuntarily, dropping his puzzle pieces too, both hands instinctive to go for Haruka's shoulders to steady him, but when he saw the look in Haruka's eyes, he realized he had nothing to worry about. Haruka was just... _excited_. With wide eyes, Makoto watched his pantomime and his smile slowly stretched back across his face. "O-oh! You swim too!"

Normally, that might have been a weird thing to get so wild over, but it suited the young man whose first love had been a waterfall. And suddenly that he liked water so much made perfect sense too.

With a laugh, he sat forward, gaping fondly at Haruka. "Amazing! How did you guess which style I swam so quickly?" Makoto was completely unaware of just how broad his back and shoulders were and that it gave him away instantly. It seemed like a magic trick that Haruka could figure it out like that. "I did try my hand at freestyle a few times, but I was never really fast enough. Ah, but we're both the same age, you must have swam in high school, too." He looked at Haruka head-on, trying to puzzle out which Haruka would have swam. Not backstroke, or he'd have pointed at his own back. Not breast - he wasn't built for that. Butterfly was a very flashy style, and although Makoto could imagine a man like Haruka doing it well, he knew that wasn't it either. "Do you, by any chance, swim freestyle?" Lifting both hands again, he waved them in embarrassment. "Not that I don't think you could do any style you wanted! You just...you seem suited for it. And when I picked you up in the building, you were heavier than I thought you'd be, so that means you must still train a bit."  
  
He flushed. It went without saying that he hadn't meant he'd often wondered how much Haruka weighed, right?

 

 

The look Haruka returned was incredulous; did Makoto have no idea just how his shirts and sweaters stretched across the landscape of his back? Even in the half-uniform he commonly wore, Makoto's t-shirts always showed every dip and peak of trapezius and deltoids.

.....deltoids? Gou's obsession had poisoned his brain if he remembered the names of muscle groups. At least Makoto seemed to have forgiven his 'outburst'; Haruka hadn't forgotten it, but he felt relieved Makoto let it pass. With a small shake of his head, he flared his fingers out, documenting the width and shape of Makoto's shoulders. Part of him wanted to touch, not just imply, a sensation he locked down to think about later. Makoto was simply built for power and force in the water...like an orca.

 _Free_. Makoto had said the magic word and Haruka nodded with abandon. _I only swim free_ , he said with his eyes. The concept was simple, but most people didn't understand him when he said that, and Haruka had given up explaining it years ago. He swam to _be_ free, to feel the water and everything in it, to be part of its power and infinity. Competition didn't matter, he swam because he belonged in the water and he loved it; how could inserting _feelings_ of winning and losing and hurt and division into the water be a good thing?

 _Makoto says I'm fat,_ Haruka teased (straight-faced) with gestures, reaching for the whiteboard. 'I still train. I haven't found someplace to swim since it got too cold to swim in the ocean.' He tapped the marker, debating whether to say any more. 'I used to ignore that and swim even when it was too cold, but not this year.' Not with the café and responsibilities.

 

 

"N-No, I didn't mean to imply that at all!" Makoto said, just as seriously, waving like a madman. So embarrassing. Had he actually just said it like that? He apparently didn't realize it was a joke, until Haruka held up the whiteboard to explain further; then, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"The ocean..."

For the first time in their conversation, Makoto looked a little strangled emotionally. His expression softened, saddened in a slight droop of his eyes and his lips, and when he looked down at the puzzle pieces, he seemed lost. As much as the ocean inspired a dread and fear into Makoto like nothing else ever had, somehow imagining Haruka in it, cutting through the waves with ease, perhaps even smiling, made him feel safer about the subject.

"Mmm, I used to be a part-timer at my old swim club," he said, glossing over the bit about the ocean. Now certainly wasn't the time to dwell on that. So he smiled again, fingers absently plucking puzzle pieces to see if they'd fit. "They have free swim for adults every weekday and sometimes they do competitions on weekends. I competed a few times. It's a lot of fun, you know? Swimming with other people. Having a team."

 

 

Something was wrong. Makoto's aura seemed to deflate before Haruka's eyes, his smile melting away into...a sort of look Haruka never wanted to see, one that looked miserably out of place on Makoto. Hopelessness, _despair_ , and another deeper emotion, one Haruka couldn't name but which made him feel cold all over, swirled and blended through Makoto's green eyes. Even their color seemed to fade, weighed within by something very...private. Haruka didn't understand what had happened or what had put that horrible cloud in Makoto's eyes, but he understood about private things, things that couldn't be easily shared with anyone else.

Until yesterday, he'd believed most every thought in his own head was a private one. Until the orange tree became _Makoto_.

Makoto looked back up at him and smiled. It felt like an icicle stabbing Haruka in the chest. _Makoto's smile...didn't touch his eyes at all._ They were still empty, haunted even through his brave face. Adding to the sharp ache inside was his own lack of words; even if he had his voice, Haruka knew he had very few comforting skills and no idea what to say. But the thought of doing nothing left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He dropped the whiteboard into his lap and reached for one of Makoto's restless hands, capturing and covering it with his own. Haruka's hand was smaller than Makoto's, wiry but strong. His fingers curled into the valley between Makoto's forefinger and thumb, tucking under to gently stroke against his palm, hoping to transfer some reassurance from his skin to Makoto's.

Haruka lifted clear eyes to Makoto, mouth forming a whisper of a smile, and turned his attention back to the puzzle, fitting pieces into place with his free hand.

_If something bothers you or upsets you, you can hold onto me as long as you need._

 

Makoto knew he was terrible at shielding his emotions. Normally, he simply didn't bother to try, but he hadn't wanted to ruin the serenity of being here with Haruka, of talking about himself and finding a common ground. But he didn't realize he was _that_ bad until Haruka reached for his hand.

Shocked, Makoto went stock still. Haruka's fingertips stroked against his palm, and a million unhurried thoughts all vied for priority in his head. What was this? Did Haruka feel it too? Was this just what intense friendship was like and Makoto had simply never been this close with anyone else so quickly? Or was this something more, something like affection? It stole his breath to wonder.

"A-ah, I'm sorry," he said, giving Haruka's hand a squeeze to reassure him. "I'm actually...I'm afraid of the ocean, that's all. It sounds silly to admit that out loud." It was like he'd read the anxiety in Haruka's gaze and wanted, no _needed_ to answer to it. "But imagining you swimming in it, I feel a little less afraid somehow." There. There was a real smile for Haruka, one that reached through his ribs and to his heart. "When you feel better, we should go together." Without realizing, he looked down to continue the puzzle, not letting go of Haruka's hand.

 

 

Haruka tilted his head slightly, looking up in a slanted gaze at Makoto. His eyes said he understood being afraid - even if 'of the ocean' fell outside of his ability to truly empathize - and it was okay, not silly at all. He nodded, feeling like it sealed a promise: Makoto and Haruka, going to the beach. Together. The agonizing blankness had sunk back below the surface of Makoto's eyes, soft sincerity all that could be seen again.

They worked in silence, hands joined, for quite a while. Haruka nudged pieces towards Makoto which would fit with his section and the waterfall image took beautiful shape bit by bit. It truly was amazing to look at, the original photographer had captured the spill and splash perfectly, the vertical angle emphasizing the height and the flawless majesty of it. Makoto had known just what to get for him, as if they'd already lived a life previously in perfect harmony. It was a little intimidating, more than a little scary, but the scariest part was how _right_ it felt. Haruka had never felt particularly compatible with other people; if not for swimming, he and Rin probably wouldn't have been friends, they were too different, and Rin already had Yamazaki as the person he fit with best. But...Makoto....  
  
The door opened and a different nurse came in, likely the one for the next shift. Haruka relaxed his grasp on Makoto's hand but didn't pull away, leaving the decision to Makoto. She took Haruka's temperature and checked his blood oxygen levels. "Do you think you could eat some soup, Nanase-san?" He shrugged, he still didn't have much of an appetite but eating meant going home sooner. Eating meant being able to be near Makoto in something other than pajama pants and a paper gown; Haruka wasn't a vain person but even he had his pride. "Shall I have them send something up for you, Tachibana-san?"

 

 

Strangely, it felt natural to sit there and hold Haruka's hand while they worked on the puzzle. The connection tethered Makoto, and he wasn't sure how it got to be like this, that _he_ was the one who needed comforting when Haruka had nearly died in that fire and currently had to remain on a non-rebreather for who knew how long. But even that was okay. It was less embarrassing than it should have been, mainly because Makoto simply never wanted to let go of Haruka's hand, and if Haruka let him hold it, that made things easier.  
  
When the nurse came in, it had been so long with them holding hands that Makoto had altogether forgot. If it was any other time, he probably would have discreetly pulled his hand back, but then, when would this ever happen and with whom? It seemed outside of the realm of possibility that it would happen anywhere else or with anyone else than here and now with Haruka.

"I'm okay, thank you," he said, offering a smile to the nurse as she left. He looked down and blinked at the state of the puzzle. "W-wow, Haruka, we're almost done." Shocked at their progress, he had absolutely no idea how long they'd sat there, in silence, holding hands. Holding---

When it dawned on him, his gaze lingered on how Haruka's fingers curled around his palm. Suddenly, his hands felt very, very sweaty, so he gingerly pulled them back so he could discreetly wipe them on his slacks. His heart was racing again. And he immediately regretted moving his hand away. He wanted that touch again. He wanted his fingers twined with Haruka's fingers. The desperateness of such a want gave him pause, and yet even if this was so very unlike him, he couldn't say he minded. The rush of it was exhilarating.

"Maybe six puzzles won't be enough!" he joked, laughing lightly.

 

 

Six puzzles turned out to be exactly enough, and when visiting hours were over Haruka went to bed exhausted but blissfully content. He slept through most of the next day, only waking up late the following evening to a note from Makoto stating he had come by but didn't want to disturb him. Haruka smiled to himself, dutifully ate his miso broth, and fell asleep again with the piece of paper cradled to his chest.

He had a fever early the next morning and lost three subsequent days in a haze of heavy medication and fitful sleep. Pneumonia tests all came back negative and the doctors concluded it was just his body fighting off the injury of all the inhaled particulate matter from the fire. Nothing really to do but wait it out and treat symptomatically.

The next time Haruka woke, the mask had been replaced with nasal cannula and his skin was cool to the touch. He felt achy and sore all over, it was impossible to take a deep breath, but the constant burning in his throat had dulled. That had to be a good sign, he thought.

A glance up at the digital clock on the wall said it was 3:17, probably PM as it was still light outside. He glanced towards the table, the table where he and Makoto had worked on puzzles, the table where he'd held Makoto's hand. The table where Makoto sat, quietly playing a game on his phone. Haruka didn't remember him wearing glasses before, but today he was, smart-looking black-rimmed glasses that reflected the soft light from the screen and shielded Makoto's eyes from direct view. Haruka felt an abrupt surge of heat, intense as his recent fever but centered low in his belly rather than his head. It curled and unfurled in him, enough to leave him breathless as he shuffled the blankets for cover, the slight noise alerting Makoto.

 

 

It was the first Christmas Eve that Makoto ever spent in a hospital. But if the past three days were anything to go by, Haruka's condition could turn from a positive outlook to something severe in a matter of hours. It tortured Makoto to think that he and Haruka could be holding hands one minute, content to finish six puzzles over the course of a day, and the next Haruka was whisked from him and he wasn't allowed to be in the same room out of fear of contagion.

Ultimately, Haruka was fine, but Makoto had been by his side every day, as often as he could manage, just keeping him company. Mostly, Haruka slept, but Makoto liked to think he knew he was there anyway.

Today, Christmas Eve, he'd spent the morning with his family making breakfast and giving gifts. They would truly celebrate the holiday the following day, but even so, Makoto knew he'd have to make an excuse to come visit Haruka. Haruka simply couldn't spend his Christmas Day alone, and Makoto kept wondering when he'd be released, because a Christmas visit to the beach, while unorthodox, also sounded perfect.  
  
Then again, he was getting ahead of himself. Haruka had been sleeping and heavily medicated for the majority of their time together; it was silly to hold out hope that he'd magically be better for a holiday and want to spend it with Makoto instead of his own family or friends.

The noise roused him from his game, and Makoto looked up, his glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of his nose. When he smiled, they rose up again and found their rightful spot. "Good morning, Haruka!" He got up instantly, trying his best not to knock the table over in his haste. "Ah, you look so much better today! The nurse left some tea for you, and I smuggled miso from a cafe in case you're hungry, and...." He paused, swallowing down his excitement. "I'm sorry. It's just...good to see you again."

 

 

There it was again, but so much better in person than in cloudy fever-dreams: Makoto's smile, the real one, the one that kept trying to seduce a smile from Haruka. His lips curved briefly, for some reason he'd found it easier to smile with the mask on; it had blurred nuances of expression and thus Haruka hadn't felt quite so exposed. But there was nowhere to hide from Makoto now, nowhere to conceal the fond regard for his eager enthusiasm, his ability to speak so freely. Makoto would see everything on Haruka's face. Makoto would _know_ why he'd rearranged those blankets. His voice still felt broken, his head ached and his stomach protested its emptiness, but some other parts of him were far and away ahead of the recovery curve.

He stretched his arms over his head, unable to drown out the voice in his head that chirped on and on about how wonderful it was to wake up with Makoto there. _I know,_ Haruka's eyes said. _I missed you, too, Makoto._

It was the first time he'd felt truly hungry since the fire, his body craving nutrition, and Haruka nodded with relish, reaching greedy hands towards the container with the miso. The cannula nullified his sense of smell, but he could _feel_ the salt in the air: Makoto had brought him _saba_ miso. Haruka thought he might be sparkling and he didn't _care_ , he was starving and there was saba and it didn't matter right now that he was in a hospital on Christmas Eve, all was right with the world.

 

 

It was nice, on Makoto's side, to see Haruka. All of him. His lips were chapped and the skin around his mouth was very, very dry, but somehow, he was even more beautiful like this than he'd been in the kitchen at the cafe. Maybe it was because Makoto _knew_ him now.

His smile widened. "You put saba on the menu so often," he said cheerfully, taking his seat at the bedside. "I knew you must be a fan." It wasn't like saba miso was impossible to find in Iwatobi, but Makoto had gone to a lot of trouble to procure that special container. But now, seeing Haruka enjoying it, Makoto knew it had been worth the journey. "Don't eat too fast, though. I don't want to make you sick and have the nurses keep me from coming back."

 

 

If Makoto only knew. Haruka ignored that inner voice shouting 'he will! he will!' and reverently took the lid off the container and accepted the spoon Makoto offered. He took as deep a breath as he could manage, frustrated that so little of the scent made it to his nose but thankful nonetheless. Haruka put his hands together, mouthing 'itadakimasu', and dunked the spoon into the fishy broth to slurp up its contents. He could barely taste it, but what he did taste was briny and dense, the saba shredded into thin flakes that required little chewing. Reluctantly, he slowed down, though his blue eyes were flat with skepticism when he looked up at Makoto: this was _saba_. _Saba_ would never make Haruka sick; they had a deep understanding, much like him and water. He put the spoon down and tried not to display any more of the sulk he was feeling inside; it would be unappreciative, and Haruka appreciated Makoto and the saba more than he could say. As much as he wanted to inhale the whole container in one gulp regardless of consequences, he wanted Makoto there more. (It was a close contest, but Makoto edged out saba; Haruka would have to turn _that_ nugget over in his mind later.)

He leaned back against the pillows and sipped at the tea, surprised to discover the pain from the burns diminished. They'd continued to heal while he was out of it, apparently. Haruka hadn't expected the world to stop, but it was a little disorienting to realize one had lost four days to the ravages of fever and potential infection with few memories to plug the gaps. The thing he remembered most was _Makoto_. Makoto and his strong, gentle hands, Makoto and his lilting, airy voice, telling little stories and talking about nothing. Haruka made a mental note to ask him about the rest of the family camping story sometime.

The few spoonfuls of saba miso took the knife edge off his hunger, and Haruka swirled the spoon more leisurely in the broth, doing his best to fish out the highest proportion of saba-to-broth possible. He glanced up at Makoto, doing his best to silently apologize for being a grump before downing his next bite. He fell into a slow rhythm alternating sips of tea and spoonfuls of soup until he felt sated, laying the spoon down with satisfaction,

The nurses' whiteboard in his room read December 24th and Haruka looked around the room for his, tugging the sleeve of Makoto's sweater and pointing when he spied it. He had something he wanted to ask, even if he wasn't sure he truly wanted the answer. The marker made several squeaks against the surface as he wrote, turning it around with a little shiver of trepidation in his stomach. 'It's Christmas Eve, don't you have a special date tonight?'

 

 

As usual, Makoto didn't mind the silence one bit. He was so elated to see Haruka sitting up more easily, drinking, eating, that even the pouty expression he'd never seen before on the other man's face was something he treasured. He wondered if the soup was a little cold or maybe too sour, but there was something in the glint of Haruka's eyes and the way he fished for saba in the broth that made Makoto think maybe this was just a previously unseen part of Haruka's personality. He couldn't say he liked it any less than any other parts he already knew.

The tug on his sweater sleeve made Makoto smile. He didn't mind Haruka's particular brand of excitement and in fact, fondly appreciated being useful to him in some way. He moved to grab the whiteboard, sitting back down to open his own tea, which the nurses had waiting when he arrived that morning.

Just as he began to sip, Haruka turned the whiteboard around, and Makoto convulsed, nearly spitting up his drink as his cheeks flared red and goosebumps prickled at the back of his neck. Hastily, he fumbled for a tissue to wipe his mouth, utterly humiliated to look like that in front of Haruka, but it was just...no one had asked him about 'special dates' in a while. It was something reserved for goading at the station or New Year's celebrations with his family. It wasn't something Makoto particularly enjoyed discussing.

"A-ah, well, you see, that is to say, I don't, um..."

He had been about to say  _I don't have anybody special_ , but that... That simply wasn't true anymore. He had Haruka in his life now. The thought only made his cheeks sting with a flood of additional heat.

With a laugh, he cupped his tea with both hands, somehow managing to make his grip look extraordinarily small around the tiny can. "The only plans I made for today were to be with you." He got the words out, somehow, but they were incredibly soft, and Makoto almost instantly regretted his own honesty. Surely, this would be the thing that scared Haruka away. No one said things like that, after barely knowing a person, but over the past few days since saving Haruka's life, Makoto felt like he'd gotten to know the man, and the more he learned, the more he  _felt_. He still wasn't sure what to call it, but the feeling was important, and that was enough for Makoto.

Just then, a nurse walked in. Makoto jumped, a little of his tea sloshing out of the top of the can. Once again, he reached for a tissue to try and dry himself off.

 

 

Haruka's fingers tightened on the board, wondering if he'd just committed some stellar small-town faux pas. Makoto looked so discomfited, so _embarrassed_ by the question, a question that had been normal and customary among the other students in culinary school (granted, Haruka tended to walk away in the middle of those conversations due to lack of interest). He knew Osaka and Iwatobi were very different, but this he hadn't anticipated. It felt like he'd _hurt_ Makoto in the asking, something that created an awkward, painful clench in his chest that had nothing to do with breathing too deep or cloudy lungs.

He studied Makoto, _I'm sorry_ on his eyelashes with every blink. How was it that when Makoto felt self-conscious he seemed smaller, almost ephemeral, like he would melt and disappear before Haruka's eyes? More, how could someone as generous and open as Makoto _not_ be spending Christmas with someone special, walking downtown in a light whisper of snow, holding hands and watching the waves from the boardwalk, sharing a special dessert in some place with dim colored lights and muffled music? How.... _oh.......ohhhh!_

More squeaks on the board, Haruka jotted something down in a frenzy, not wanting to take his eyes off Makoto lest he fade away altogether. He ignored the nurse's entrance, swallowed down the bubble of tenderness that lumped somewhere in his throat at Makoto's second tea incident.

'Then I'm glad we made the same plans.'

 

 

Something caught in Makoto's throat when he saw those words. It could easily have been a joke - where else did Haruka have to be than here at the hospital? he _couldn't_ leave - but Makoto knew it wasn't. That wasn't something Haruka would joke about, not so callously. His hands squeezed a little tighter around his can of tea, barely restraining himself from reaching for Haruka.

He couldn't bring himself to ask if Haruka had anyone. Makoto hadn't seen anyone else at the hospital; though Haruka had explained his parents were out of the country, he'd never mentioned close friends or romantic interests.

The nurse eventually needed to check some of Haruka's vitals, so Makoto stood and moved out of the way, but his gaze remained fixed on the young man in the bed. Stomach in knots, he anxiously waited until he could sit back down beside Haruka.

 

 

The routine was quick and efficient, peppered with minor updates and inquiries: his temperature was nearly normal, his lungs still sounded irritated and crackly when he breathed, the doctor wanted him to do three breathing treatments a day, the tech would be in later to do a chest X-ray, had he been coughing much since he woke up? Haruka answered in shrugs and gestures; this nurse was better than most at interpreting. Nevertheless, Haruka cleared a space on his board and wrote a message for her, careful not to let Makoto see it. Her brown eyes glanced between her patient and his friend, something soft in her gaze. "I'll see what I can do, Nanase-san." He bowed his head in thanks, not quite fast enough to escape her hand patting his hair. "We can hook you up to portable oxygen if you want to walk around the floor later. And..." she giggled like a woman half her age, "you can have a sponge bath today, too." She waved and Haruka hastened to erase his message, flicking cautious but warm glances at Makoto until she left.

Haruka, he knew, was not terribly good at subterfuge, nor had that been particularly subtle. If it worked, though, it would be worth it.

He looked from Makoto to the chair and back again, raising both eyebrows in question. Unsure if this had been enough of an invitation, he sketched a quick 'sorry for the interruption' on the board and turned it Makoto's way.

 

 

That Haruka looked that excited over a sponge bath was really endearing. But then, all the little things Makoto took for granted like walking down the street, taking a bath at home, eating whatever he pleased, were things Haruka couldn't have right now. He decided not to tease him about it, even if it was adorable.

Makoto took his seat again the minute it was free. "It's okay. If the nurses didn't come in to check on you, I'd be worried." Makoto was all too willing to share his time with Haruka if it meant he'd get better quickly. Even though Makoto wasn't sure where it would leave the two of them once Haruka was able to get out of the hospital, in the end it would be okay to be without him if that was the tradeoff for his good health. "If you're feeling up to it later, they put lights up in the cafeteria downstairs. Maybe we could go look at them together."

He was oblivious to whatever Haruka had plotted with the nurse, assuming it was something embarrassing to do with his recovery.

 

 

 _Yes_ , Haruka thought, _I would like to go there with you._ He nodded, perhaps with more enthusiasm than was needed, but he'd been cooped up in the same place for too long. Even a trip down the hall seemed a vacation, an escape. His mind splashed back to the mental image of someone being someplace with Makoto, colored lights, sharing dessert, and the someone was no longer a faceless entity but _him_.  
  
_The only plans I made for today were to be with you_.

Haruka coughed and turned his head away, not quite able to look Makoto in the eye when he remembered those words. If he looked at Makoto, Makoto would _know_ that Haruka just dropped _himself_ into that little fanciful imagining of Makoto's Christmas date. He rubbed the center of his forehead, glaring down at the ground and its unwillingness to open up a convenient Haruka-swallowing hole in his time of need. However, a hole would pretty much eliminate seeing lights in the cafeteria with Makoto; perhaps its lack of cooperation could be forgiven.

He sighed, rolling his shoulders and looking back up, the smallest of self-deprecating smiles touching his mouth when their eyes met. The charm from Makoto's phone stuck out of his pants pocket, dangling next to his hip like something hypnotic. Haruka wrote a quick note on his board, handing it to Makoto. 'My old phone sort of died in the fire. Can you help me set up my new one? I'm bad with technology.'

 

 

"Sure," Makoto agreed, easy to offer help so that he wouldn't become a nuisance at Haruka's bedside. After all, he'd been there every day. Even after being in and out as Haruka had for three days, he could still be annoyed to see Makoto there all the time.

Glancing around, he found the new phone. It had barely been touched. Either Haruka was _really_ bad with technology or maybe it was that he hadn't felt up to it. Whatever the case, Makoto turned the phone on to begin.

"I'll have you login to your accounts, and I'll sync them," he said, considering. "Hmm, you should write down any apps you want, so I can download and set them up. Do you play Sudoku? Oh, there's also a game I just saw where you fill buckets up with water." He flashed a smile. "I thought you might like it."

 

 

'I do okay with my iPad, but phones suck. I miss my old one, they don't make that kind anymore.' Haruka laid the whiteboard on the overbed table so Makoto could see it as they worked on the phone, drawing little dolphins in what amounted to the margins.

He looked up at Makoto, mouthing the words 'water game' with reverence, eyes shimmering. _Yes, get that one!_ He wasn't sure he remembered all the passwords to everything, Rin set most of them up years ago (and that was the sole reason his email account for his phone was 'mizudere@docomo.co.jp'). Following Makoto's prompts, Haruka tapped the screen to enter his information; he was so glad Makoto knew what to do. A phone, for Haruka, was good for sending the occasional message, maybe playing a game, and as a last resort making a call; apps and music and whatever else wound up on one seemed like overkill.

This would be much easier if Makoto sat on the bed with him, Haruka thought. He scooted over, clearing enough of a space to accommodate Makoto, and patted the bed in demand. Then maybe he could show him how to play the water game, too.

 

 

In the middle of searching for the water game, he glanced up in time to see Haruka rearranging himself on the bed, offering room to Makoto on it. That seemed... That seemed really...

"Ah, it would be easier if I sat closer to you, hm?" he asked, his mouth working before his hesitation could even catch up. Whatever he'd been thinking, he pushed it aside, stood, and slipped onto the bed next to Haruka. It was impossible that they wouldn't touch - the bed was made for _one_ person, not two, and Makoto was rather broad in his shoulders as Haruka had kindly pointed out - but at just _how much_ they touched, Makoto felt the need to apologize profusely. "Sorry, Haruka. If you need more room, please let me know. I can stand."  
  
Really, he could. Haruka needed the bed; Makoto was just selfishly invading his space.

"Um, okay, I've imported your contacts." He hesitated again, this time for a different reason though. When he glanced up towards Haruka, he realized how close they really were. How deeply he could see into Haruka's ocean blue eyes. How difficult it was to look away. "Should I add my number....?" A pause. "In case we want to meet up after you're released." Yes, the backs of his ears were already getting warm again.

 

 

It was a little awkward, placing all their limbs and such, but despite being a tight fit it felt much better being together on the bed. It was easier to follow Makoto's fingers and try to memorize what he did. The contacts were the most important part; he hadn't memorized a phone number in years. Haruka's list was rather short compared to most, consisting of his parents, Rin (under the pseudonym Shark Princess), Rin's parents, Gou, a couple of people from culinary school, and...his late grandmother. His finger brushed over the picture he'd chosen to use for her in the phone, one he'd snapped the first weekend he had it. She was wearing a blue apron, her white hair tucked up under a pale pink kerchief, and holding a dish of saba shioyaki. Her face, wrinkled by age and joy both, practically blazed with life and affection. She had been dead for almost six months, but Haruka couldn't bring himself to remove her from the list.

Did Makoto just offer his number? And...to meet up when he was out of the hospital? Until that moment, it hadn't occurred to Haruka that once he left the hospital he and Makoto wouldn't be in daily contact. He wouldn't see Makoto come in to pick up the firehouse's order at the Purple Cat. He knew where the firehouse was, but he had no idea where Makoto lived. _Yes_ , he mouthed, thankful he hadn't stupidly missed this opportunity. _I want to meet outside the hospital._ He watched Makoto's fingers tap in his number and email, saving the contact to the list. Haruka didn't have a picture to add, but he had an idea of what he wanted to use.

Makoto handed him the phone and Haruka opened a new SMS message. By sending him one, Makoto should have his number, too. He missed the buttons from his old phone and the autocorrect changed about every third word into something totally unrelated; he corrected things repeatedly until he was satisfied. Makoto's phone vibrated in his pocket with Haruka's message.

**From: 06-6209-4549**

**[This is my number. It's an Osaka one, I didn't change it when I moved.]**  
  
**[My parents will get here the 29th, and right now I should get released on the 30th.]**

**[Do you want to meet at Misagozaki for hatsumode?]**

 

 

Even though Haruka was texting right in front of him, it was still a pleasant surprise to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. He'd turned off the volume while he was with Haruka in the hospital so he wouldn't disturb him if he got any calls. The charm dangled in his hand as he lifted the phone and smiled dumbly at the screen. Just then, it said _Unknown Name_ , but Makoto's fingers were quick to fix the mistake and when it said _Nanase Haruka_ instead, he felt like the world had just granted him the greatest gift it could have.  
  
Now, he could contact Haruka any time. If he was lonely, if he just wanted to say hello, if he saw a really great place to swim or something that made him think of Haruka, he could text or call him.

At that point, he'd worked himself into a sweat over it all. Suddenly, his phone became one of his most treasured items.

**From: 0857-20-0872**

**To: Nanase Haruka**

**[YES!!!!! :)]**

It was silly to text his response, but he grinned at Haruka as he sent it anyway. He liked knowing his name was flashing before Haruka's eyes just then. He didn't even think about the fact that Haruka knew where Misagozaki was; Iwatobi was a small town. Makoto and his family surely weren't the only ones who visited the shrine for new year’s celebrations.

As he shifted, he caught sight of the whiteboard and Haruka's drawings on it. Phone set down in his lap, he drew the whiteboard close.

"....wow. You're really good at this. Drawing, I mean. I should have known. You always drew such beautiful things on the takeout boxes. I treasured them."

 

 

Sitting this close, Makoto's excitement was contagious, as if it could travel through the spots where their bodies were touching. Makoto's solidity and heat felt so close, close enough to lean on...except Makoto startled easily sometimes. Maybe another time, Haruka thought, tracing the letters of another message on his phone. The new one didn't seem as unpleasant now that it had Makoto's number in it.

**[Probably too cold to wear kimono. Meet at 11AM?]**

His eyes followed Makoto's hands to the whiteboard and the little scribbled dolphins. Oh, those. Haruka shrugged, not dismissing Makoto's praise but not entirely sure how to accept it. Drawing was just something he _did;_ he didn't work at it or try especially hard, so labeling himself as 'really good' fell beyond his experience. That they had meant something to Makoto, though, felt like fur rubbing against the inside of his chest. 'It's just something I do when I get ideas. I saw your name on the ticket...and it made me want to draw an orange tree. For you, even though I didn't know you.'

Haruka stopped writing, sketching in a larger delphine form leaping alongside what comprised a pod of dolphins. He filled it in until most of it was black, except for a spot like an eye, the belly, the underside of the jaw, and a swoosh up onto the side. 'this is what I would draw now. Makoto is an orca. I'll draw a better one on paper sometime.'

 

 

Makoto leaned close, watching Haruka draw with a none too subtle awe. He'd never actually seen someone sketch things out like that and have them turn into real art. Maybe Haruka didn't think much of it, but compared to Makoto who could probably doodle a stick figure and maybe a squiggly-tailed cat at best, it was surreal.

"Me?"

It made his stomach jump to see Haruka write things like that. _For you, even though I didn't know you._ And _Makoto is an orca_. If he'd said them out loud, Makoto had a feeling they wouldn't have sounded as true as they did just being written on a whiteboard.

"You're a very interesting person, Nanase Haruka," he said, after a time contemplating the right words. His smile was overly fond, it hurt his cheeks a little, but he couldn't help himself. This guy was incredible. Was there anything Makoto would find out about him that wasn't immediately endearing to him? "I'm so glad I've gotten to know you." It would have been a tragedy to not sit here on the bed with him and see his drawings on the whiteboard and receive his texts.

Laughing, he sent a text response back anyway:

**[11am! But only if you're feeling better by then! ;)]**

 

Haruka nodded, reluctant to erase the words so soon but with the doodling and his sudden loquaciousness, he'd run out of room to say anything else. 'I haven't seen you swim yet, but you'd be powerful and intense. Like an orca. Orcas live in family groups and they care for each other and stay together. And...' Haruka paused before writing the rest, 'they are the biggest dolphins.'

More than anything, Haruka marveled at how different Makoto's methods were from Rin's. If Rin said he was 'very interesting', it would be sarcastic or patronizing (or another attempt to start a fight or a competition), but Makoto was sincere. Achingly so. His forthright honesty seemed to draw Haruka out of his isolation, to pull him just a little outside the veil in which he dwelled. Makoto said he was glad to know him, and Haruka knew it was true, could _feel_ the answer echoing in his own chest. 'I am glad, too,' he wrote. 'Meeting you, I feel like I belong in Iwatobi.'

The moment had no chance to linger, Haruka's nurse coming back in. "I got what you wanted, Nanase-san." She glanced at where the two of them were sitting but made no comment about it. "Tachibana-san, could I ask you to go to the waiting room for a while? Nanase-san needs his X-ray and treatment...and a sponge bath." She kindly ushered him out, closing the door after the X-ray tech who hauled in the portable machine.

About an hour later, the slight whirr of wheels on tile heralded Haruka's arrival. He tugged the IV pole and portable oxygen with his left hand, the one currently tethered to it, while the nurse walked on his other side to support him. His hair was damp, smelling faintly of mint, and he wore blue slippers and pajamas with a light robe over them, the hospital gown nowhere in sight for now. He didn't bring the whiteboard but the new cellphone rode on the pole's top level. "Take the elevator to the first floor, you know where the cafeteria is. You can walk around for as long as you want, being mobile is necessary for Nanase-san to be released, but if he gets very short of breath or tired, have someone call and we'll wheel him up."

Haruka glared, making a gesture that roughly translated as 'don't talk about me like I'm not here', and let go of her arm to take Makoto's.

 

 

Makoto sadly stood from the bed, hesitant to break the tentative moment they'd been sharing but knowing there was no point in staying. He would only get in the way of the nurses, and it would be rude to be there while they bathed Haruka. Makoto wouldn't have wanted anyone there if the positions were reversed, after all.

Bowing his way out, he smiled at Haruka before the door was shut after him. He realized, as he stepped into the waiting room, that his heart was beating incredibly fast, and all the places he'd touched Haruka, that Haruka had touched him in turn, were still warm and tingly. He found himself by the nearest window, looking out at the calm surroundings beyond the hospital. Suddenly, he couldn't wait to see the outside world with Haruka, to be able to share Iwatobi with him and prove that he did indeed belong there.

After a while, Makoto turned at the sound of soft footsteps and wheels against tile. His lips felt stiff as he tried to smile. The sight of Haruka, walking around, in fresh clothes with his dark hair half-damp with water, and those slippers... On anyone else, it would have looked ridiculous. On Haruka, it was refreshing, and it clenched something tight in Makoto's chest. Tighter at the look Haruka shot to the nurse as she talked about him like he wasn't there. Just then, Makoto wished he'd had a chance to put something else on or comb his hair.

Finally, Makoto's mouth worked into a broad, easy smile. "Thank you very much!" he said, moving close to take his place at Haruka's side. "Haruka is strong, but we'll be careful anyway."  
  
He took slow, small steps, following Haruka's lead more than anything else, though Makoto guided them down the right path towards the elevator. "It's so good to see you out of bed," he said, looking at Haruka fondly. "Please let me know if you need to rest." He held tight to Haruka's arm and made his body available if Haruka needed to lean against it.

 

 

Haruka nodded in acknowledgment, not really able to respond otherwise but something told him Makoto didn't mind. Iwatobi's hospital only had three floors, the ride down to the first was short-lived, and he let Makoto lead the way; Haruka hadn't visited the hospital previously and he trusted Makoto's navigation.

The doctor and nurses had warned Haruka that until his airways and lungs healed, he could get short of breath easily, but for someone physically fit the concept of 'easily' hadn't computed with accuracy. He tugged Makoto to a stop about every thirty steps, pausing to concentrate on breathing. This...was hard. Functioning without a voice wasn't that difficult for Haruka overall, but having his endurance annihilated was humbling. Maybe he would need all of the time it took to rebuild the Cat just to regain his physical capability. Running a kitchen was demanding.

The cafeteria doors loomed ahead, one of them held open by a different nurse; Haruka recognized her from his first day. "Go on in, Nanase-san, Tachibana-san." The area was largely deserted, the hospital had few patients at Christmas and seemed to run with a smaller staff. "We set up a table for you by the window."

True to Makoto's word, the small space was decorated in kitschy colored lights, with cutouts of snowmen and Santa on the walls and fake holly tied with bows on the tables. One table had a flameless candle in the middle, with dishes and drinks arranged on it. "Nanase-san told us he didn't get to make Christmas cake for you because of the fire, Tachibana-san, and asked us if we could bring you some," the nurse said, walking with them to the table. "So we arranged dinner down here for you two...and Christmas cake." A small, strawberry-covered cake sat on one side of the table. "Since you're grown up, we won't tell if you decide to eat the cake first." She bowed slightly, unable to keep from smiling. "Please enjoy everything."

...this wasn't quite what Haruka had in mind when he asked if someone could bring cake for Makoto, but maybe the nurses were bored and decided to go overboard. He guided the IV pole next to a chair and took a careful seat, glad for the break and a little embarrassed that he needed it.

 

 

Makoto didn't seem to mind the constant stop-and-go slow walk. It gave him more time with Haruka, and honestly, he was just thankful to see him walking and breathing without the mask in the way. It was still such a welcome sight, to see Haruka's soft mouth, to truly see the expressions that filtered across his face. They were subtle, sure, but Makoto liked that. He knew he was too honest sometimes, too forthright, but he got the feeling that Haruka only said something if he really meant it. He probably chose his words very carefully.

With a smile to the nurse at the door, Makoto was completely caught off guard by the scene that awaited them. He actually paused in the doorway, his fingers tightening slightly on Haruka's arm in awe. He'd wanted Haruka to see the lights and decorations, something Makoto always liked about this holiday, but he hadn't expected that the nurses would arrange a table for them, and was it his imagination or were the lights dimmed a little bit too?

Laughing, he rubbed the back of his neck. "W-wow, thank you!" His enthusiasm was hard to contain, and he just felt so honored that he was part of this. Especially for Haruka, who couldn't be where he probably wanted to be on this evening. It softened his heart to think just how much effort had gone into making this special for Haruka. Another laugh followed as the nurse explained about the cake, and he helped Haruka into his seat with a big smile on his face. "Haruka, you're so kind to think of something like that!"  
  
Taking a seat across from him, Makoto appreciated the soft glow from the Christmas lights and the single flameless candle. In this sort of light, Haruka looked incredibly soft.

"I-Itadakimasu," he murmured, belatedly pressing his hands together in thanks, and feeling just...overwhelmed with the moment. He really was fortunate, wasn't he? Haruka, too. To be stuck in a hospital was not ideal, but the nurses here were treating both of them with such generosity. And though the cake wasn't the only food before them, it was what Makoto went for first, beaming at the strawberries on top. "Your throat is still too sore for this, but maybe you could sneak a bite of the frosting? It's very light."

 

 

If it put such an expression on Makoto's face, Haruka thought, then he didn't mind all of the frippery so much. It was very generous of the nurses to go to so much trouble just for them, and the lowered lights created an ambience he actually liked. Makoto's eyes behind his glasses were darker in this light, like the undersides of leaves on an overcast day, and his smile made the table anything but dim.

Haruka likewise put his hands together, but his mind wasn't entirely on food as he mouthed the rote 'itadakimasu'. He didn't often break it down, but the thankful phrase meant 'I humbly receive'. Haruka was alive today because of Makoto's actions. Haruka had received the gift of his company quite often in the hospital, and he was grateful. Haruka did not easily or often make friends, his reticent and sometimes difficult nature was off-putting to most people, but Makoto had moved with the grace of water between those sharp edges, fitting himself inside as though he had always belonged there and simply hadn't arrived until now. As he did for the food and the decorations, Haruka gave thanks for Makoto, honored to receive him.

Seeing Makoto dig into the cake brought a soft, warm sense of satisfaction, along with a tiny bit of smug pride. It had just felt wrong earlier that Makoto would miss out on Christmas cake to be there with him, and while it wasn't the same as seeing Makoto eat cake Haruka had made it thrummed with rightness regardless. When he got out of the hospital and went home, Haruka wanted to make cake for Makoto, the picture of home in his mind now no longer Osaka but the small house with his grandmother's picture in the altar and the big tub.

He skimmed a bite of the frosting with his fork, taking a catlike lick of it and letting it dissolve on his tongue. It was tasty - but far too sweet, he and Rin had that in common - and rich, not too wet and likely a good complement to the sponge cake beneath it. Haruka nodded, thinking it would suit Makoto's enjoyment well. He pulled his phone off the stand, toggling back to Makoto's message history. He touched the promise of hatsumode at 11AM with his forefinger before swiping a new response.  
  
**[It's good. I don't eat a lot of sweet things but it's Christmas.]**

His own miso had more tofu in it than before, along with rice, seaweed and some mushrooms - slippery, easily digestible things and in small, easy-to-swallow pieces. He set himself to eating, finding himself able to finish all of it with ease; recovery from smoke inhalation injury often brought a marked spike in metabolism and necessitated eating more. Haruka knew he'd already lost some weight and didn't want to lose much more.

He glanced down at the phone, thinking that perhaps that message hadn't been enough, that he wasn't doing his own part in communicating. He wanted to hear Makoto's voice, it was selfish and a little childish but he still wanted it.

**[What would you normally be doing on Christmas? Do you work most of the time?]**

**[I know firemen work weird hours. Have you been back since the fire?]**

Once Makoto read it, Haruka sought his gaze, blue eyes curious. Only now did it occur to him that Makoto had been at the hospital a great deal of time, even on a fireman's schedule. Was Makoto all right? He didn't have the same bracelet on his wrist Haruka did, so he wasn't a patient officially.

 

 

It was satisfying in a new way to see Haruka swipe some of the icing and eat it. Makoto smiled, tucking into his portion more than happily. It wasn't the best quality for a Christmas cake, nothing at all like his mother made or they ordered from the local bakery sometimes, but being here with Haruka and at least being able to share it with him made all the difference. The care the hospital had taken to prepare this also ensured Makoto would finish it by himself if he needed to, although he was already imagining the looks on Ren and Ran's faces if he brought even part of a cake home for them.

Looking up in time to see Haruka's message, Makoto finished his bite, prodding at the cake softly in thought. "Well, normally I'd be working, yes," he said. He didn't want to make Haruka feel like he was a charity case, as that simply wasn't how Makoto felt - he _wanted_ to be here. More than anywhere else. "It's usually very quiet around this time of year, but of course they need everyone they can get."

Pausing, he took another bite. He knew Haruka liked hearing him talk, but more than anything, Makoto wanted to hear Haruka's voice. He kept imagining what it would sound like - would it be high, low, soft, warm? - but it would be impossible to hope for a verbal response at this point. It was enough just being able to talk to him at all, even if it was only through text.

"I took some time off, actually. I picked up a shift for the 30th, but other than that, I'm using up some saved vacation time until after the new year." He took another bite, knowing he should explain, but...explaining was difficult. It made him feel meek, suddenly. Why _was_ he spending his vacation time with a man he barely knew? How could he made sense of it to Haruka when it barely made sense to him? "What about you?" he finally asked. "In Osaka, what did you normally do?"

 

 

That...was a better answer than what he had imagined, even if it was somewhat unexpected. Did that mean Makoto had taken vacation time to be with _him_? He hadn't come out and said it, but even without words Haruka could read his face, his body language. Something warm twitched under his rib cage as he studied Makoto. Haruka was accustomed to being alone, and alone wasn't _lonely_ for him, but Makoto hadn't known that about him - still didn't. Makoto had gone out of his way to ease things for a virtual stranger, for _Haruka_. The warm sensation swelled, an orchestra reaching a crescendo inside of him, and it was almost too much to _feel._ Needing a moment to sort everything, Haruka broke eye contact and took the lid off the unopened bowl on his side of the table, pleased to find it was hot ochazuke. There were salmon packets - not saba, but a decent substitute - next to the bowl and Haruka tore two open, sprinkling them over the top with his left hand and texting with his right.

**[I thought you might have been hurt in the fire, too, and hadn't told me.]**

**[I'm glad it's just time off.]**

His head slightly bent over the bowl, spoon held left-handed as he slurped the ochazuke, Haruka flicked little glances up through his eyelashes at Makoto, watching him discreetly and considering his response. What _did_ he do on Christmas? Nothing came to mind, it had never been a day of significance for him, and listening to Rin's endless descriptions of the perfect romantic Christmas date made his eyes glaze over.

**[I usually was in school or trying to find a pool so I could swim. Cooking saba.]**

**[It wasn't a big deal for me. My parents would be home for hatsumode but often gone at Christmas.]**

**[You're the first person I've spent Christmas with.]**

 

Even though Haruka had been blessed company for Makoto, he wasn't surprised that Haruka hadn't spent much time with others around Christmas. It was a holiday for lovers, and Haruka seemed, to Makoto, to be the kind of man who kept to himself. Which only made Makoto treasure this time they shared together more. Who knew what it would be like once Haruka was released, once he could speak. Things could very well change, and they might not like one another, but somehow, Makoto didn't think it would be possible to so much as dislike Haruka.

 _You're the first person I've spent Christmas with_.

Makoto looked up, fixing green eyes to blue. He'd thought this before, but right then, Haruka was lovely. Like warm lake water in the summer; Makoto would have loved to simply dive in and never look back. But there was a danger in his beauty too. Makoto had never felt like this before, clammy-handed and itchy to reach out. To connect.

"I'm glad I can be here to spend it with you, Haruka," he said, tipping his face as he smiled, eyes squinted. He drew another swipe of his fork over the cake, gathering frosting and a large strawberry to bring to his mouth. A little excess remained at the corner of his lips, even after he swallowed the bite. "I wish it could be somewhere else, maybe a lake or a pool so you could swim, but this is wonderful in a different way, you know?" Under the table, he shifted his legs, and accidentally one of his feet brushed against Haruka's. He apologized for it, but Haruka didn't seem to mind.  
  
From the nurses' viewpoint, the two of them must have looked like lovers, sharing a quiet meal on Christmas Eve, laughing and playing footsies. It might not have been an incorrect assessment of the situation.

 

 

Haruka put his spoon down, rolling his lips inward over his teeth in what looked to be amusement. _Such a mess_ , he thought to himself, picking up a napkin and reaching without hesitation to clean away Makoto's leftover frosting. To the eyes of others, the gesture would have been very intimate. It fell outside of all of his normal behaviors, but Haruka's carefully guarded personal space seemed content to evaporate in the face of green eyes and magnetic smile.

**[the water wouldn't let me drown, but I probably couldn't do more than float. the walk down wasn't easy, I have a long ways to go.]**

**[that came out in the wrong order. I'm glad too, should have said that first.]**

By the time they finished dinner and took a short turn around the cafeteria to see the lights, Haruka was tired. He insisted, with sharp eyes and stubborn posture, on walking back rather than calling the nurses; if he held tighter to and leaned harder on Makoto than before, he wouldn't admit it. A different nurse from before took over when they got back to the room, hustling Haruka into bed and reconnecting everything. "I'll give you a few more minutes to say goodnight, but Nanase-san needs some rest. When you're done, I'll walk you down." She smiled, closing the door behind her.

 

 

"The staff here are so generous," Makoto commented once the two of them were alone in Haruka's hospital room again. It was strange to think he'd passed an entire day here, but then again, it actually _didn't_ feel strange at all. It felt like he'd known Haruka for a long time, like they were old friends reconnecting. And it was good to see Haruka seemed to feel the same way. "I think visiting hours have been over for at least a half hour." He rubbed the back of his neck, taking in the sight of Haruka in the bed again and sort of wishing he could travel back in time to the moment when they were sitting side-by-side there, Haruka's shoulder and thigh and arm brushing his. "But I really should let you rest. I'll come back tomorrow in the evening, if you'd like." He'd already explained his plans for the morning and afternoon, to be spent with his family.

Honestly, he should probably leave Haruka alone for a day or so, but something kept drawing him back. He didn't ever want to leave. If the nurses had offered a pillow and blanket, he might have just stayed the night.

"Please have a good night, Haruka. Thank you for spending Christmas Eve with me."

 

 

 _I will,_ Haruka thought, blinking sleepily. _Come back tomorrow when you can, I'll be here. Thank you, Makoto_. He didn't think any of Rin's overblown romantic Christmas date ideas could have been better than eating in the hospital cafeteria with Makoto. Rin always prioritized decoration over substance in Haruka's opinion. He watched Makoto until the door shut behind him and settled deeper into the pillows with a sigh, tired but infinitely satisfied.

True to her word, the nurse - her name tag said 'Inoue' - met Makoto and began walking in step with him. "I hope everything came together well, we all got in on it when Nanase-san asked Tsuchiya-san to get cake for you." She giggled, fingers curled in front of her mouth. "How long have you and Nanase-san been dating, Tachibana-san? Everyone thinks it's very romantic that you were the one to save him from the fire."

 

 

"It was perfect," Makoto said without thinking. He was still on a bit of a high after having such a wonderful evening. "I can't believe you went through all that trouble for us, but Haruka and I appreciate it greatly." That certainly only helped lend credence to her next few statements. Makoto stopped once they were at the front desk, a funny feeling tying his stomach into knots. "O-oh, well, we're not, ah...."

It was difficult to stop her. Nurse Inoue just kept giggling at his flustered hand waving and fumbled words. He didn't want to make her feel bad for jumping to such a conclusion, and so in the end, he simply thanked her and the other nurses for the cake and for being so nice and quickly excused himself, opting for the long walk home.

As he wound through Iwatobi's quiet streets, he bundled his scarf around his neck and rubbed his gloved hands together. The weather was really something of late, wasn't it?

At the hilltop of a side street, Makoto came to pause, looking down at the path he'd wandered and instantly thinking of Haruka.

 _Everyone thinks it's very romantic_.

A sick feeling tumbled through Makoto's stomach. He retrieved his phone, hurriedly typing a text to Haruka.

**I'm sorry. I didn't realize**

But that didn't sound right. What did he have to be sorry for? And what if Haruka had made a comment to the nurses about them dating so they'd bring in a Christmas cake? It would be rude to call him out on it, when the evening had been so nice, after all.

He tried again.

**Haruka, I hope I didn't give the wrong impression, but**

That, too, was erased, swifter than his first attempt, and he sighed in frustration. Why did it suddenly seem like every word he wanted to type was a lie? The truth was... He felt something tonight. He felt something for Nanase Haruka, the best chef in Iwatobi and the warmest soul he'd known in some time. The truth was, that something felt _right_ when Makoto was with him, and he was simply afraid to admit it to himself or Haruka, lest it ruin the friendship they were building.

In the end, he returned home without sending a text. After all, he didn't want to wake Haruka over nothing.

 

 

Nurses came and went in hospital rooms, and Haruka did his best to ignore them, letting them check whatever readings they needed to record, take his temperature in his ear, switch out IV fluids. Tonight, he heard a flurry of giggles before anyone entered and turned on his side in annoyance as the door opened, admitting two. He was worn out, none too pleased by the meteoric drop in his endurance, and he wanted to sleep. He wanted a few more moments of peace to reflect on having Christmas with Makoto, to bask in the glow of feeling that seemed to surround him whenever he thought of the fireman. He'd never had a friend who mattered so much so quickly, that all but teleported behind his walls. This, he thought, was what it meant to have someone who was _taisetsuna mono_ \- most important person.

"...yes, of course I asked him!" That was Inoue, the nurse who left with Makoto. Haruka cracked one eye open, distantly wondering just what she asked. He didn't care, not the way most people would when overhearing potential gossip, but it had to be Makoto. What would she ask Makoto?

"So what did he say?" A different voice, he thought her name was Shiba. "Spill, Miyuki-san, how long have Tachibana and Nanase been dating? They're so sparkly when they look at each other, like it hasn’t been long and they’re still in the honeymoon phase, but then they talk without saying anything, so it could be _years_."

Haruka didn't hear Inoue's response, even though she was standing in front of him next to the bed. He didn't hear anything but the pounding, furious rush of blood in his ears, the bass-drum thud of his heart, and the eerie, keening whine of something inside him going nova.

His hand snared Inoue's wrist in a viper's strike, blue eyes glowing with fire in the dim of the hospital room. "What," he rasped in a reedy, hoarse, painful parody of his voice, "did you say to Makoto?"  
  
\--------------------

The phone in Makoto's pocket buzzed an urgent vibration against his thigh, as if it meant to keep up its plea for attention until he checked it.

**[....sorry if anything the nurses said embarrassed you.]**

**[You like sweet things and I wanted you to have cake.]**

**[no one should put you on the spot with annoying questions.]**

 

Makoto didn't respond right away. He would have, but Ren and Ran attacked him on his way in the front door, and he spent a few minutes talking to them about their day and telling them about the Christmas lights and decorations at the hospital. When he finally sat down on his bed and took out his phone, his face brightened.

 _Haruka_! Texts from Haruka!

**[Don't worry about it. :) The nurses were very nice, and the cake was wonderful.]**

He sent the text and then held the phone in his hand, heart pounding. Maybe he shouldn't have been so flippant about it. After all, the nurses _had_ got the wrong impression. Hadn't they?

**[They thought we were dating.]**

Makoto let the text hang for a moment, then anxiously hit send. His throat was dry, and his hands were clammy. Really, he should let Haruka get some rest - he'd had an exhausting day - but Makoto.... he wanted... Somehow, it felt wrong to throw a statement out like that, so he quickly added:

**[Can I bring you anything tomorrow? Please let me know.]**

 

Haruka lay on his back, closed eyes twitching intermittently. His phone, clutched in one hand, rested on his chest. Makoto hadn't replied quickly, and despite the dispersing frothy feelings he hadn't been able to stay awake for long after his outburst. Makoto's message vibrated the phone, bringing Haruka conscious with a jolt. He yawned, toes curling into a long stretch, and unlocked the phone. Haruka squinted at the too-bright screen, trying to make his eyes focus.

The rage-knot in his throat burned again, its intensity adding to the ache in his head. The words on the screen blurred, and it took Haruka a moment to realize the blur in his eyes was water, not fatigue. He didn't care what the nurses had thought, but he cared very much about Makoto's feelings, blinking against the sudden, frustrated tears.

**[I was afraid]**

His finger hit the send button before he meant to, the message gleefully whisking away from his phone to Makoto's, and no clumsy fumbling in the air managed to catch it. _Dammit_. Haruka sighed, rubbing his palm over his eyes, so tired he felt somewhere on the border of drunk and delirious. He couldn't go back to sleep yet, though, not with Makoto's guileless _They thought we were dating_ still on his screen.

 **[I was afraid,]** Haruka tried again, **[that she hurt you by asking about dating.]**

 **[like i did when i asked.]**  
  
**[you got embarrassed, it made you uncomfortable.]**

**[makoto does not deserve to be hurt with stupid questions.]**

**[especially not twice]**

 

 

 

It was a minute or so between his last text and any response from Haruka, so Makoto decided he'd get ready for his shower while he waited. He wound up removing his shirt (then checking his phone), then his pants (then checking again). It was by the time he was about to pull down his underwear that he heard the chime, and he nearly dove onto his bed to read it.

 _I was afraid_.

Makoto audibly gasped. No. No, no, he hadn't meant to scare Haruka by being so blatant. Maybe he'd messed something up. Maybe it didn't translate through text like it did through speech. Then, the rest of the text followed, and Makoto breathed a sigh of relief, slowly sitting on his mattress and letting himself sink back until he was laying, staring up at the ceiling. His heart felt so unbelievably full.

 _Makoto does not deserve to be hurt_.

He pressed his phone against his forehead for a time in silence, biting back the urge that stabbed his chest to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

**[I don't think Haruka is capable of hurting Makoto.]**

**[I was caught off guard when you asked, but I wasn't hurt. Please don't think that.]**

**[Also, I think the nurses are just hopeful romantics. :) I don't think we should blame them for such things.]**

A second later, he sent one final text:

**[You should be sleeping!!! :P Don't let me keep you up.]**

 

Haruka looked down at the words on the screen, fingers skimming over them. _Everyone's capable of hurting each other, Makoto. I'll have to be extra careful that I don't hurt you._ Makoto, Haruka was learning, believed the best of people, and those idealists were the ones who could be hurt most easily. The ones whose hearts needed the most defense from cynics like Haruka.

The soft contentment of the evening spent with Makoto had abruptly shifted into harsh, fierce confrontation when Haruka overheard the nurses, not for the content of their speculations but for directing them at Makoto. Makoto's absolution helped Haruka release the rest of the anger he'd been holding, not quite realizing how tense his body had been.

**[i heard them talking about us dating and for how long and how she asked you and i got angry.]**

**[i don't get angry, it's too much effort.]**

**[but if i think someone hurt you, anger just comes out. it's weird.]**

The messages flew, bullet-style, from Haruka's fingers to Makoto's across-town phone. Overtired, overstimulated, he couldn't seem to stem the flow that turned conscious thought into data.

**[This is hard. If you were here, you could look at me and you'd know things without me saying them.]**

**[in text i have to pick out words that match what i think and feel. i'm not good at that, it doesn't always make sense to other people.]**

**[sorry for being difficult, Makoto.]**

He heaved a sigh, stretching out and flexing his fingers. Texting was _work_.

**[jellybeans.]**

**[could you bring jellybeans?]**

**[Inoue likes them. I may have snapped at her.]**

Haruka's end of the conversation fell silent, fatigue winning at last. An unsent message lay on his screen the next day.

**It didn't bother me that they thought we were dating.**

 

Makoto smiled fondly at the barrage of texts. It was the most Haruka had sent or shared all at once, and Makoto found that he liked it. It was like hearing what went on inside Haruka's head, which he knew was a lot more than he shared with the outside world.

 _If you were here, you could look at me and you'd know things without me saying them_.

The knot in Makoto's chest tightened, and he pressed his hand against the suddenly ferocious beat. It was true. He somehow knew what Haruka meant or wanted without hearing him say a word to his desires. And though Makoto was good at reading people, he wasn't _that_ good. He knew without a doubt that he wouldn't be able to read Rei like that. Or Kisumi. This was a different level of friendship, uncharted as far as Makoto was concerned.

**[Jellybeans it is! :) Do you want anything for *you*?]**

When he didn't hear back for a good fifteen minutes, he knew Haruka must have ultimately given into the urge to sleep. He couldn't imagine how difficult this must be for him, how exhausting. He seemed too proud to be able to accept all the help and affection from others, although he had invited Makoto into his personal space quite easily. Makoto felt very privileged for such a thing.

He lay on his bed for a while longer, staring at the ceiling and thinking of the way Haruka looked when he slept. His sharp features softened, his lips parted, and he tucked into himself, curled up like a cat. A cat who loved water more than any cat Makoto had ever known. He smiled at the thought, breathing in the simple pleasure of thinking about someone he liked and having that warm feeling fill up his stomach. Until now, he hadn't really known what it was, and even at this moment maybe he couldn't have defined it, but he knew it was important.

**[Please sleep well, Haruka.]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! We really didn't mean for this to turn out as long as it did but we regret nothing. Please hit us up on tumblr.
> 
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> [Phoenicia](http://mienaihane.tumblr.com/)  
> [snarkyscorp](http://fuwafuwafic.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first shrine visit of the new year is always just a little magical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as part of the RP Club for [the Official MakoHaru Festival 2015](http://theofficialmakoharufestival.tumblr.com/) but as you can see, it grew legs and ran away with us. Please forgive the formatting (perspective designations have been removed for the AO3 version) and huge thank-yous to the fest mod for partnering us!
> 
> This chapter hits the themes of: cold sweater weather, mounting attraction, sudden insight, unexpected fortune

 

The next morning, Makoto got a call from work. They needed him to come in if he was available, as one of the other firefighters had a family emergency, and that left them severely short-staffed. Makoto considered, but knew in the end he should go. As much as he would love to spend the day with Haruka again, this was also important. Still, that didn't make sending the text any easier.

**[I'm very sorry, but I won't be coming by today. I have to pick up a couple shifts.]**

He hoped Haruka didn't think this had anything to do with the nurse's comments from the previous night, but he knew it would be on Haruka's mind if it was on his own. So, he sent a follow-up.

**[Please text me any time. Even though I'm on shift, I'll have access to my phone. :) Give Inoue-san my best and tell her that I'll bring jellybeans the next time!]**

 

Haruka woke up with a cramp in his hand, rubbing until the tension slackened enough to drop the phone onto his chest. He couldn't say he felt great, but the uncontrolled, near-drunk feeling of the previous night had ebbed out to sea like the tide, leaving behind gritty eyes and unfamiliar muscle aches. How had he gotten so weak in such a short time?

A nurse came in, thankfully not Inoue, and he stuffed the phone under his pillow while she went through the daily routine with him. If everything went well today, they'd take the IV out tomorrow, start lowering his oxygen concentration to let his lungs adapt, and best of all, he could have a real shower. A true bath would have to wait until he was released, but a shower suddenly seemed like the most amazing thing in the world. In a protracted series of whiteboard exchanges, he was able to straighten out things from yesterday, to thank the nurses for what they'd done for them, and to apologize for his outburst (because it was the socially necessary thing, not because he actually felt sorry for defending Makoto).

She left to see if breakfast had been sent up for him yet, and Haruka snatched the phone from its hiding place. His eyes widened, seeing and remembering the sheer amount of words he'd typed out, as well as the unsent message. He erased it, even though it didn't erase the feeling. _God, I was so tired last night,_ he thought, rubbing his forehead between his eyes. Fatigue was Nanase-kryptonite; get him exhausted enough and all his filters tended to disappear. Even alcohol didn't work that well. _But, I can't really be sorry, either. The evening was wonderful. I genuinely enjoy Makoto's company, I feel special and important when I'm with him. I want to see his smile._

Oh. Newer messages in this conversation. Haruka exited the compose window and returned to the correct one, feeling the left corner of his mouth gently curve at Makoto's good-night message. Why did such a tiny, probably rote kindness feel so significant?

The next message sucked all curve out of his mouth. _Do what you want_ , Haruka thought in annoyance, both at Makoto for not coming and at himself for being annoyed. He'd gotten so spoiled in so short a time, so dependent on hearing his voice, having his company, suddenly a day loomed empty before him and Haruka felt...lost.

It was inevitable, in a way; Makoto had a life full of responsibilities and family and friends, and Haruka was only a recent and small addition to it. Unlike Haruka, Makoto had an important job, one that helped people when they needed it most. If someone needed him to work, Makoto would go - not necessarily that he wanted to, but because it was the right thing to do. No, it was the _Makoto_ thing to do. And Haruka couldn't really be upset with Makoto for doing the Makoto thing, at least not for very long. He gave himself mental permission to sulk only until breakfast came, but no more than that. Resigning himself to a brief period of quiet self-pity, he glanced around the confines of his room, which seemed rather an unfriendly place when it lacked a smile.

The art supplies Kawamura-san had brought him caught Haruka's eye and he moved out of bed to grab the bag. He could work on the logo for the Cat...and do that drawing gnawing on his creativity. Sulking was forgotten as he opened the pad, choosing a 2B pencil to start his sketch. He reluctantly put the pad aside to eat, laying the phone on the overbed table. Makoto said he could text, even if he was working.

**[I understand. i can't keep you to myself forever. please be careful and help people.]**

**[i started drawing something for you. It's going to take a while, but I've got plenty of time to work on it.]**

 

 

If only Haruka knew how much Makoto would rather be kept by Haruka than sit at work thinking about him all day. They sent texts back and forth, but Makoto tried to temper himself. Haruka needed rest and relaxation, not some guy fawning all over him, but when he saw something that made him think of Haruka - which at this point was a lot of things - he just had to text him or send a picture.

Over the next few days, it was difficult to get off work during visiting hours at the hospital, and by the time Makoto had his normal new year's vacation days, Haruka had been released and sent home. It made Makoto very glad, but he still sent Haruka messages wishing him good health and verifying they'd meet at Misagozaki for hatsumode.

It seemed like forever when the new year finally came around. Makoto spent the morning with his family, texted Haruka to postpone their get together until noon so he could watch his siblings while his parents were out, and prayed he didn't come across as wishy-washy on this subject. It wasn't at all that Makoto didn't want to see Haruka; in fact, it was the exact opposite. He'd spent half his morning choosing the right things to wear, something he never cared about, and the rest of the time reading and re-reading the card he'd bought for Haruka and wondering if the oil pastel set he'd wrapped was too much.  
  
It was just...he wanted to give Haruka everything. And the excitement of seeing him was worth it to him.

A little before noon, Makoto made his way to Misagozaki, which was just up the steps from his own home, so it wasn't likely he'd be late to get there. Still, the sight that greeted him when he stepped onto the landing made him nearly wish he hadn't accidentally kicked a pebble and given himself away. Before him stood Haruka, bundled in so many layers that he looked like he'd gained twenty pounds, his face covered with a surgical mask, the dark hair that escaped his hat curling in the cool breeze.

It was cold outside, Makoto could feel the bite of the chill in the air, and yet he felt warm all over at the sight, and suddenly that knot in his chest that had been tied tight was somehow yanked secure. His chest hurt. His eyes hurt. His everything hurt.

"Happy New Year, Haruka," he said, his voice barely carrying above the wind. He was in a turtleneck today with a heavy coat to keep himself warm, as well as a scarf, and he carried the gift box and card in a bag at his side, a warm smile on his face. How was it that he could still be overwhelmed seeing Haruka like this, even when he had been looking forward to it since they made the plans? "You're looking well! Your parents must be taking very good care of you."

 

 

The rest of Haruka's time in the hospital consisted of nebulizer treatments, physical therapy, and drawing. He made about five different logos for the Purple Cat, but kept coming back to the orca taking shape on paper. The giant cetacean leaped from the water with power and grace, just as Haruka pictured, just as he imagined Makoto would do while swimming. His days also consisted of text messages, cat pictures (Haruka was fairly certain he could now identify every cat in Iwatobi on sight), and firehouse anecdotes from Makoto.

His parents changed their plans, arriving on the 27th in time for Haruka's early release. It felt good to come home. The first couple of days, Haruka was very glad his parents were there; he had missed them more than he realized and it was a relief to be a little pampered and spoiled by his mother (who wouldn't so much as let him in the kitchen, no matter how much he protested). Climbing up and down the stairs still took his breath away, and more than once he'd fallen asleep in the bathtub only to be awoken by the water chilling and his mother's thin fingers quietly stroking his damp hair, the way she used to do when her water-loving son was small. Haruka also finally texted Rin about the fire and dropped the phone in his mother's lap when it immediately rang. She had a better way with Rin's volatility than he did.

By January 1st, however, Haruka wanted his parents to go somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was far away and he didn't see them until at least Golden Week. The three of them hadn't lived together on a relative full-time basis since he was about fourteen, and Haruka had become very accustomed to having his own space, his own routine. _Dressing_ himself. When Nanase Yumiko learned of her son's plans for hatsumode, she stuffed him into thermal underwear, two sweaters, a long coat, a thick wool scarf knitted by his grandmother, earmuffs, gloves, hat, boots, and finally a surgical mask - as if he was _sick_ or something! Then, she and his father accompanied him to the shrine ahead of his meeting time so they could have a family blessing by the priest there.

Deep down, Haruka knew this was his mother's overcompensating way for not having been there immediately, and for the both of them traveling so much, and he did appreciate the intention if not all of the execution. But he wasn't fourteen any more, he was twenty-two, he was meeting a new friend who meant a great deal to him...and he felt ridiculous. Not hot, he was comfortably warm - and his pride hated to admit his mother might have been right in her wardrobe choices for the weather - but ridiculous. Makoto deserved better than ridiculous. Haruka leaned against the torii, keeping a sullen eye on his boots. The shrine was never crowded, but even the small gathering had thinned out, leaving him largely alone to wait.

He didn't wait long. Noise in front of him drew his eyes upwards and upwards, it always amazed him how tall Makoto was. Tall, smartly dressed, the ends of his scarf fluttering aimlessly in the wind, and his smile lighting up all the space between them as Makoto walked closer. The nearer he came, the less air Haruka could force into his lungs. Makoto...took his breath away. He felt heat push its way up into his face, and he wasn't sure if it was because Makoto looked so amazing or because he looked so ludicrous. Taking a fortifying breath, Haruka waved, his eyes meeting Makoto's. _I'm looking stupid, not well_ , his gaze said, shoulders lifting in a sigh. _I'm going to kill my parents before long, but it's good to be home._

They fell into step, walking towards the fountain to wash their hands. Ritual ablutions finished, their next stop was the altar and offering box. Haruka pulled a coin from his coat pocket, it had been in his pants at the time of the fire and he wanted to return it to the gods as thanks for allowing him to live. He tossed it towards the box, bowing and clapping in turn before offering his wish to the heavens.

_Thank you for sparing my life. Thank you for letting me meet Makoto. Thank you for giving me a friend just for me. Please let me stay by his side from now on._

 

The shrine was a simple one, but that's part of the reason Makoto liked it so much. With the view it had of the water from the top, he could guess why Haruka had chosen it as well. Although it did make him wonder how long of a walk it had been for him. In his condition, he really shouldn't stress his body so much. Especially up the seemingly endless flights of stairs to reach the top.  
  
Still, he didn't appear to be having trouble, so Makoto let it go.

After washing his hands at the fountain with reverence, he followed Haruka to the altar. Makoto didn't have a fire-singed coin, but he placed just as much weight on his wish as he offered it to the gods, clapped his hands, bowed in ritual.

 _Thank you for saving Haruka from the fire and letting him accept me as a friend. Please keep him in good health and happiness_.

As Makoto lifted his head, eyes opening, he caught sight of Haruka, still praying, and felt that knot tug and twist. Even if all Makoto could see from him was his eyes and a few inches of skin his mother hadn't managed to cover up, he was so beautiful there in the afternoon light.  
  
A stray prayer was added, a selfish one: _Please don't let Haruka ignore my love_. As an afterthought, it might not be counted towards his wishes, but it was what he wanted, more than anything. To reach for Haruka's hand and have the touch accepted, to gently brush hair out of his eyes and not frighten him, to.... Yes. Maybe to kiss him. It all sort of flooded him at once, and the only thing he could think was that it was because they hadn't seen one another in a few days, and he simply felt greedy for Haruka's presence.

"They have the omikuji over here," he said, voice very quiet as he gestured to the small stand. It wasn't a large or popular shrine, so they didn't have some of the more unique and kitschy vending machines. Instead, there was a four-sided box of drawers and two fortune shakers on each side, filled with an appropriate number for the fortune. Makoto deposited a coin into the slot, then raised his container with a grin. "Have you ever received _dai-kichi_ before? It always makes me anxious in the hope that I’ll receive greatest luck!"

 

 

Haruka breathed out, unable to diminish the feeling of contentment that seeped into him the longer he was next to Makoto. The days without him he had kept busy, but he hadn't realized just how deep the longing to see him, to hear his voice was. Makoto...fit with him.  
  
Haruka canted his head to look up at him and nodded, following Makoto towards the fortune drawers. He held up one finger; greatest luck had been his just once, the January before they'd set the relay record at regionals. Rin's parents had been so proud, especially his dad - their high school coach and Rin’s inspiration for swimming. Haruka's parents had watched the race via Skype from a hotel in Hong Kong. He fed the box a coin, shaking out a stick. Twenty-four, the number on it read. He stuck it back in the shaker and opened the corresponding drawer to draw out the paper.

Half-luck. Health, business dealings, wishes, studies and person waited for all indicated blessings, the largest being in the matter of illness; Haruka took this as a sign he'd get the rest of his voice back soon. Everything else, marriage and romance especially, indicated bad luck. Ah well, he'd just have to make his own romantic luck and put all the providence from the shrine into his health and the reopening of the café. He folded the paper and put it in his pocket, curious to see what Makoto had drawn.

 

 

"Ah, to have it even once would be...."

Makoto opened his box, number eight, and unfolded his fortune with an astounded, "Amazing!!!" He actually said it so loud that an older lady on the other side shushed him. Makoto reddened, but he pointed to the top of his card anyway, showing Haruka even though it was pretty obvious what fortune he'd received.  
  
Was it really just fate that he'd received greatest luck now of all times? Or...or was it Haruka being there with him?  
  
Makoto's face felt even warmer as he read through the various sections. His largest blessings were in matters of romance, lost articles, and his greatest wish or desire. The only thing his fortune warned against was advancing his career, something Makoto rarely gave thought to, since he liked his job so much. With a swallow, Makoto read and then re-read the fortune for 待人. It said: _The person you are waiting for will come_. He couldn't help but glance up at Haruka again, studying the gentle curves of the parts of his face he could see, those ocean-blue eyes.  
  
Had the gods listened? Was this really his blessing?

"I guess I put a lot of stock in these," he said, quietly, folding it back up reverently. "I know that's silly. But to get greatest luck just after I met you..." He smiled brightly. "It can't just be a coincidence."

 

 

Haruka watched Makoto read his fortune, careful not to read it himself, and drank in the sight before him. Makoto wore joy everywhere, from the silvered highlights in his eyes to the fluffy tips of his bronze hair. He was lit from within, the type of exuberance that was in his eyes, his voice, the way he stood and bounced on the balls of his feet as he followed the rabbit-trail of luck in his hands. Haruka wanted to tuck all six feet of him into his pocket and share him with no one, basking forever in the light and heat that was Tachibana Makoto.

 _Congratulations_ , Haruka's quiet, deep eyes said, soft with adoration. _You deserve the best fortune possible, Makoto._ If half-luck was the price of being beside Makoto, it seemed a very small one for Haruka.

He shook his head, nothing about meeting Makoto felt coincidental anymore. Haruka never subscribed much to the concept of destiny or inevitability, but the rightness that framed every thought, every feeling, every interaction and touch involving Makoto made him stop and think. Haruka bit the middle finger of his glove through the mask, tugging it off his hand and yanking out his phone; some things unfortunately needed more words than even Makoto could translate out of his looks and body language.

**[I keep thinking that maybe we met in another life. That there's some universe where you and I knew each other all our lives and were always together.]**

**[Going to school together, swimming together, sharing everything.]**

Haruka pulled in a deep breath, not quite willing to confess the rest hovering unsaid in his fingers and his mind. _And I think maybe we could live that life again starting now._

 

 

Makoto bent a little so he could look at the phone more clearly, his smile only brightening when he read what Haruka texted.

"Hm, like reincarnation," Makoto mused, not at all bothered by the intimacy of a statement like that. He considered everything they'd been through so far as so strange and wonderful that it seemed possible they'd been even closer than this in another life. "Like a red string of fate, that continually kept us tied, no matter what life we were living."

He didn't realize for a full moment that he'd said that last part out loud. Suddenly, he was dark red to the backs of his ears, and he held both hands up, waving them frantically.

"A-ah, I know that's normally meant for lovers, and I didn't mean to imply anything!"  
  
The old lady around the corner peeked at them from around her fortune. Makoto fiddled with the strap on his bag and only then remembered.

"Um, I brought you something. I thought I'd wait until after our fortunes to give it to you." He reached in his bag and pulled out the nicely wrapped gift, as well as the New Year’s card. The card itself was inscribed with Makoto's signature and a small personal message that said _This year will be brighter with you in it_. "Please accept these, Haruka."

 

 

Haruka's blue eyes got huge, taking over most of his face, not from surprise or embarrassment, but because Makoto _got it_. It was exactly like reincarnation, like a wheel turning over and over, a carousel that brought sights that were both new and the same with each revolution. Part of him wondered if this other him, the one who he fancied had been close alongside Makoto from childhood, had lived a life with bad karma to warrant their not finding each other until they were adults in this one. He nodded in understanding, quietly absorbing the accord between them.

Makoto's frenetic waving startled Haruka and he tucked the phone back in his pocket, hastening to grab Makoto's hands with his own and still them. _I know. It doesn't bother me._ In truth, it didn't, even without Makoto's hasty clarification. Makoto was so endearing when he felt self-conscious, how could anything about him bother Haruka? He caught the old lady's eye and rewarded her with a flat, unapologetic stare.

Haruka held out both of his hands to receive what Makoto offered. Etiquette dictated that he should refuse at least once before accepting, but social rules were something Haruka often ignored. He didn't want to reject anything from Makoto, even for the sake of social nicety and ritual.  He opened the card and read it, face soft in the winter light as he traced Makoto's name with his eyes. The shrine didn't seem the appropriate place to open the actual gift, though, he wanted a little more privacy (and not to share Makoto with the curious looks from the old lady).

**[Come to my house?]**

 

Makoto's stomach was already doing flip-flops, so when Haruka took his hands, those blue eyes shining and warm and understanding, he thought he might die. And it wouldn't be an unhappy death, not if he was with Haruka when it happened. He had no idea how things had gotten so deep between them, but he felt it in every gesture, every 'word', every touch. And slowly, Makoto was starting to realize there was more to his affection for Haruka than mere friendship would allow. Right then, for example, he wanted to pull the mask down from Haruka's face so he could see his mouth. Watch it mouth the words Haruka eventually wrote through his phone.

_Come to my house?_

It was a question, sure, but it may as well have been rhetorical. Makoto nodded, his breath caught and his heartbeat frantic.  
  
Maybe he shouldn't have brought a gift. Maybe that had been silly. But when he'd seen the oil pastel set, he'd thought immediately of Haruka, of his doodles at the hospital. Maybe Haruka would hate the gift, think that it was too much or maybe he wouldn't even have an interest in oil pastels.

"Did you walk here? I don't want to wear you out." He kept one of Haruka's hands in his, the one without the glove.

 

 

Haruka shrugged, but he knew Makoto would read the affirmative in it. He didn't live far away and while he still got winded easily, he had Makoto. Makoto wouldn't let him overdo things. Much like swimming, he just had to walk farther every day to build up his endurance again. His ungloved hand was warm clasped in Makoto's, their steps in sync as they walked from the shrine to the torii gate. His other hand clutched the precious package to his chest; Haruka had no idea what was in it, but it was from Makoto and that alone gave it tremendous value.

Hand in hand, they navigated down the stairs to the lower torii gate and Haruka tugged Makoto to a stop in front of a house on the right with 'Sanada' on the nameplate. _This is it_ , his quiet gaze said, reluctantly taking his hand away to find his keys. He rarely bothered with locking the house here, but his parents were sticklers.

 

 

"Just let me know if you need to stop," Makoto confirmed. But if Haruka had made it all the way up there on his own, maybe his lungs were in a lot better shape than Makoto thought. Of course, that was because Makoto presumed he lived further away than just halfway down the stone steps that led up to the shrine.

When he was pulled to a stop, Makoto figured it was so Haruka could catch his breath - after all, halfway down the stairs was a long way for someone who'd nearly died in a fire. It was when Haruka pulled out keys and started fitting them into the front door lock of a house there on the right that Makoto's brow furrowed. He nearly reached out to stop Haruka from breaking and entering, but then the door slid open and Makoto felt the wind gush out of him.

"Is this where you live??" he half-shouted, eyes wide. "H-Haruka!" Makoto looked beyond himself, gesturing wildly across the way. For a minute, he was too excited to get any actual words out. But after he struggled, they seemed to flow twice as fast: "I live right there! Up there but-but down the stairs is the entrance! I can't believe you live here! I've never seen you, but my hours are so weird, it's no wonder!! We're practically next door neighbors!"

 

 

Makoto's outburst surprised Haruka, wondering if Makoto had suddenly developed some condition involving random flailing and sputtered words. He pulled the door shut, no sense letting cold air inside if they weren't going right in, and leaned back against it, tugging the mask down to his chin with a sigh. He hated wearing it, especially without a clear reason.

Wait a minute. _Makoto_ lived on this same hill by the shrine? In the house with the garden and the loud middle-schoolers? _Oh_. Those were his brother and sister, didn't he say they were twins at some point? Were they related by blood? Makoto wasn't noisy like that at all...okay, he could get a little volume-y when he was excited or embarrassed or startled or...or maybe they were blood-related after all, Haruka admitted, fond curve touching the ends of his mouth.

"Haruka?" The door slid open again, nearly spilling him backwards into his mother. He was saved from certain disaster by Makoto's quick grasp and his mother's firm hands on his back. "You must be Tachibana Makoto," she said as she peeked around Haruka, her voice low for a woman. "I'm Nanase Yumiko. Please, come in and get warm under the kotatsu, it's very cold out here." She stepped back to let them in, hastening to the living room so they could sit and take off their shoes.

Haruka took a seat on the genkan next to Makoto, heaving a sigh and dropping his head against the warm solidity of Makoto's shoulder. He loved his mother, but...he wasn't ready to share Makoto with anyone, even his parents.

 

 

Makoto was still too shocked to do much but splutter. His mind and heart were racing. They'd been living this close to each other for how long now? And never once, not until the fire, had fate allowed their paths to truly cross. It was unfair, actually, when he thought of all the time they could have had to be friends up until now. And seeing Haruka's mouth, the slow curve of a smile, Makoto wanted terribly to kiss the rise of it and make up for any lost time.  
  
Then, the door opened, and Makoto reflexively reached to steady Haruka so he wouldn't fall. The woman behind him was... his mother, then. They looked alike, he thought. She had the same sort of softness in her face. The same dark hair. Her eyes, too, were similar, as well as the slope of her nose. It was endearing, to see so much of Haruka in his mother, like a glimpsed promise of what Haruka’s own children might look like someday.

"A-ah, it's nice to meet you, Nanase-san! Please forgive my intrusion!" Even though she invited him in and Haruka had also done as much, Makoto was still jumpy from realizing they were neighbors and that sudden urge to kiss Haruka back there.

Taking a seat beside Haruka on the genkan, he began to untie his shoes when he felt Haruka's head tipped onto his shoulder. Makoto froze, yet oddly he felt warmer everywhere and knew it had little to do with the heat of being inside or the kotatsu nearby and everything to do with being close to Haruka like this. The scent of his shampoo and soaps, the softness of a few strands of hair that tickled his cheek.

"Did the walk wear you out?" he whispered, tipping his face to look down at Haruka with concern. Once their shoes were removed, his hands would be there to help Haruka up to his feet.

 

 

Haruka gave a stubborn shake of his head against Makoto's shoulder, he wasn't that tired yet. He dreaded being fussed over in front of Makoto and dreaded what all his mother might ask. He didn't think she would back him into a corner or make him feel uncomfortable, but his mother wasn't always predictable. He looked up, meeting Makoto's eyes, so pure and peridot-green in the genkan's anemic light. So easy to move towards him and take possession of that pursed-lips look of concern.

What was he thinking? He didn't believe in the fortune, but doing something so bold and blatantly stupid would surely seal that romantic curse. Belatedly, Haruka realized he'd been stretching towards Makoto without conscious thought, and he ducked his head again, nuzzling Makoto's chin with the top of his head much like a cat would. His downturned face heated in a flash and he turned his head away, tugging off his boots and starting to unbutton his coat. Makoto patiently waited out his embarrassment, hands drifting down into Haruka's view. He took them, letting Makoto haul him up, and finished with the coat, hanging it on the hooks beside the genkan and pointing Makoto to do the same. Haruka added the earmuffs, hat and scarf to a different hook, flicking the mask the rest of the way off his face and defiantly crushing it down into the umbrella stand. He'd come throw it away later, but it momentarily satisfied his need for rebellion. He stepped up, taking down slippers for both him and Makoto, and they went down the short hallway together, Haruka holding the present from Makoto.

Like most traditional Japanese homes, Haruka's had minimal heat, the primary source being the kotatsu. His mother knelt beside it, placing tea cups and teaspoons. She returned to the kitchen, smiling slightly at them, and returned with a tray holding covered bowls, a dish of some sort of rice, small plates, spoons and chopsticks. "Your father went into town to shop for tonight's dinner, Haruka, so it's just me. I hope you like odamakimushi and kayakugohan, Tachibana-kun. I also made brownies, Haruka tells me you like sweets as much as his father does." Haruka, for his part, looked down and away again; it wasn't a secret that he'd talked about Makoto to her, but...he didn't want _Makoto_ to know it.

 

 

For a brief moment, Makoto was sure that Haruka was going to kiss him.

The thought started when Haruka looked up, and it was all Makoto could do to keep himself in check. Should he accept the kiss? Should he politely pull away? What would be the better outcome for this friendship of theirs? Was it tenuous enough that a kiss could break it? Makoto feared so. And Nanase-san was in the adjoining room at that. And they were both guys, so Haruka probably didn't want that sort of thing, but...

But _oh_ , how Makoto hoped.

His eyes went half-lidded, he leaned down...and then Haruka nuzzled him, feline soft like a bunt from one of the cats that lived in the shrine. It was then that he caught sight of Haruka's blush, and Makoto's heartbeat thudded like a drum against his chest.

 _So... So pretty_.

Beautiful. Handsome. Sexy. _Everything_ in that one simple color of red that blotched Haruka's cheeks and gave his normally pale face some color. The very last thing he wanted right then was to get up or visit with Haruka's mother. Selfishly, he wanted to gather Haruka in his arms and confess everything. It almost made him tremble how quickly the feelings overwhelmed him, but somehow, he managed to hang his coat and scarf, to set his bag down, to help Haruka to the kotatsu, where he knelt beside him.  
  
"O-Oh, wow! Thank you so much, Nanase-san," Makoto said, momentarily brought out of his stupor at the sight and smell of food. She certainly hadn't had to go to this much trouble, but _brownies_. Makoto's mouth was already watering. "Hah, Haruka knows me too well already!" He glanced at Haruka, at his beautiful flushed face in the dim light, and felt warmed without the heat from the kotatsu at all. "He's very perceptive about things, isn't he?" Makoto waited for Haruka to put his hands together to thank Nanase-san for the food before he did so himself; he wouldn't rush this beautiful moment.

 

 

Really, there was no way to summon a convenient apocalypse these days. Haruka felt certain his extremities would turn blue and fall off because every speck of blood and circulation he possessed couldn't stay out of his fool face. Sitting in the warmth of the kotatsu hampered his instinct to get up and simply try to outrun the tide of embarrassment pounding in his ears, but just barely. How could he have given the kitten head-butt to _Makoto_? Part affection, part _shut-up-and-stop-embarrassing-me_ , it was second nature when Haruka felt comfortable enough with a friend who could understand his silent body language; it took Rin a year to earn one, and Yamazaki's he scheduled for the first of never.

"It's no trouble at all, Tachibana-kun." Haruka's mother knew her son's reticence very well and didn't mind carrying the conversation, much as she did with his father. Deep, unspoken things were a Nanase male trait. "I'd hoped Haruka would invite you here today so we could meet you in person and properly thank you for saving our son. A meal is a very small gesture for what you've done for us, but we hope you will accept our feelings with this food." Her smile was soft as she bowed her head to him. "Please don't hold back."

Haruka squirmed, bringing his hands together and sending his mother a 'that's enough' look. She gave him a tiny, catlike smile and pronounced 'itadakimasu' in her low, clear voice that had never entirely lost its provincial Iwatobi accent. Haruka mouthed the ritual along with her, hastening to pour tea for everyone. He sent another sullen glare at his mother, taking the cover off his soup and proceeding to slurp up some of the udon in custard.

"We're trying for a little variety in food while we're here. Even though he can cook almost anything, leave Haruka to his own devices and he'll eat nothing but saba shioyaki. Eat your rice, Haruka, you're too thin," she added. "We can only stay until about the 25th." Haruka's face didn't change, but his shoulders deflated slightly at the thought of over three weeks still with his mother gently hovering. "I know it's selfish of me to ask it, but would you look after Haruka after we leave, Tachibana-kun?"

 

 

It was funny how easy it was to forget that the catalyst to all this was Makoto's saving Haruka from the fire. Sure, he remembered every vivid detail, but sometimes, when people thanked him for doing his job, it reminded him just how important it really was. He was so very fortunate to have been on duty, to have been the one to find Haruka.

A little belatedly, he put his hands together. "Itadakimasu," he said, with clear thanks evident in his tone, and then smiled down as he removed the cover for his own bowl, reaching for the chopsticks. "You don't have to thank me for saving him. But I am very glad, of course, to have met him, despite the circumstances." At Nanase-san's request, Makoto's face brightened. He finished a large bite of his food, swallowed, and nodded. "O-of course! I just realized that I live across the stairs, so it's no trouble at all. If you need to leave earlier than the twenty-fifth, please don't worry. I will look after Haruka as long as he'll allow it."  
  
He cast a smile at Haruka, knowing full well Haruka was the type of man who didn't like to be fretted over or pestered.

"To be honest, I have selfish reasons too. He told me he used to swim, and I did as well, so now it's become a goal of mine to get us in the water together."

 

 

"You're very kind, Tachibana-kun. I will feel much more at ease knowing Haruka has a friend so close by." Haruka's mother added chili flakes to her soup, slurping it in much the same quiet manner as her son. "We would stay longer if we could, but my husband will have to get back to work...and I think Haruka chafes a little if he's too babied. By the time we leave, I'm sure he'll be ready to see us go." Haruka looked up, his unspoken _I'm ready to see you go now_ distinct enough for all to read. His mother laughed, pouring him more tea. "You still have some supervised recovery to do, my son." Haruka glared down at his bowl.

Mrs. Nanase laughed again, she was reserved but much more open than Haruka. "There is no 'used to' when it comes to Haruka and swimming. I sometimes think he is a sea creature that chose to be born from me, that I will get to raise him, and that someday he'll wander back to the sea where he belongs. We didn't have to teach him to swim, he did most of it instinctively and the rest was just a matter of where to put arms and legs at what time. What did your doctor say about returning to swimming, Haruka?" He looked away, shrugging. "Use your words, Haruka," she gently urged. "He hasn't spoken much since he's been home, but there's only so much interpretation I can do," she said, gentle smile on Makoto. "He hasn't spoken to you yet?"

 _No._ Haruka glared poison in his mother's direction. _You and Father are legally obligated to still love me with my voice wrecked. I don't want to show something so embarrassing to Makoto. I'll wait until I sound more like myself again._ He looked down, gnawing his lower lip in frustration. _Makoto deserves better than someone who sounds like gravel in a blender._

 

 

"Ah, really?" Makoto said, awed a little by her description. He could only imagine what Haruka must look like in the water, and it was a sight he simply couldn't wait to see. It chilled him, just thinking about it. Haruka was probably very serious in the water. For Makoto, it had been mostly fun and a little competition, but for Haruka, he could only imagine it was a matter of pride to do it as best he could. Not out of any need to win, maybe, but out of a need to respect the water.

He smiled patiently at Haruka, enjoying the wonderfully dense expressions that etched over his features. Haruka was beautiful, even when he pouted. Maybe _especially_. Makoto had the insane urge to spoil him and see what sort of face he made then.

His cheeks warmed at the thought.

"It's fine if he doesn't want to speak," Makoto said, taking a bite of his kayakugohan and then holding his tea to warm his hands a little more. The food, drink, and heat from the kotatsu... Haruka's home was so very warm and comfortable. "It's been a rewarding challenge to figure him out by gestures alone."

Makoto changed the subject then, asking Nanase-san about the house and realizing that Haruka's grandmother had been the elderly woman he had played with on occasion when he was a boy, the same woman who his mother had brought miso to throughout the years. It was sad that she was no longer alive, but the connection to Haruka from such an early age brought a smile to his face. They had always been near to one another, and yet their paths had never crossed until that fire.  
  
The small talk was easy for Makoto, and he liked Nanase-san right from the start. She was just like Haruka, only a little less reserved, he thought. And anyway, he sort of figured Haruka would rather have the silence filled for him while they ate.

 

 

With the pressure to contribute to the conversation alleviated, thanks to Makoto, Haruka could simply eat and listen and he did plenty of both. It wasn't to please his mother, he was just hungry, Haruka thought as he ate the last of his rice and put more on his plate. He wasn't a big fan of dessert, so no need to leave room for sweets. His mother made her own oden, the same recipe her mother had taught to them both, and even though it wasn't saba Haruka appreciated the nostalgic, deep flavor the soup had. Makoto seemed to enjoy it, something Haruka filed away for later. Odamakimushi wasn't difficult to make with practice, he could probably make enough for all the Tachibanas. Just to keep in practice, of course.

He finished the rice and another cup of tea while Makoto and his mother talked. Haruka couldn't help glancing beyond them to the altar with his grandmother's picture in it when they mentioned her. In a way, he was glad she knew Makoto, because while he hadn't had many friends, he always wanted her to meet the people important to him.

Once they'd finished with lunch, Mrs. Nanase cleared the table and brought brownies and milk tea back for Makoto. "I have some things to do upstairs, so I'll leave you boys here. Stay warm, and thank you again, Tachibana-kun, for saving my son." She bowed slightly, disappearing up the stairs.

Haruka waited just long enough for her to leave before scrambling out from under the kotatsu's blanket, going to the storage closet where he kept his art supplies. He'd framed it once it was finished, unsure when to give it to Makoto, but the wrapped mystery sitting beside the table was all the invitation Haruka needed. He turned the frame face down, wishing he had something in which to wrap it but unwilling to spare the time searching for tissue paper or something to cut for furoshiki.

He tiptoed back on the cold tatami, all too eager to tuck back in under the kotatsu, feet gently brushing against Makoto's as he did. Haruka held out the black frame, looking first at Makoto, then glancing down to the frame and back in a clear 'it's for you' gesture.

 

 

The food was wonderful, easily warming them from the cold of the early afternoon at the shrine. Makoto was glad for the conversation, but he found himself somewhat anxious to be alone with Haruka again, so much so that when Nanase-san excused herself, he all but forgot how to breathe.

"A-ah, Haruka, are you---" He was about to ask if he was okay - he'd moved faster than he'd yet seen him capable, and he looked a little frantic - but then he saw that Haruka was retrieving something, so he went quiet and waited. And when Haruka came back, his feet brushed against Makoto's, so it was worth being patient for that. His body felt instantly hot all over, but at the very least, the gift distracted him.

"You didn't need to give me anything," he said, but at Haruka's impatient look, he accepted with a slight bow of his head. Gingerly, he turned the frame over in his hands....and promptly had the breath sucked out of him again. "H...aruka...."  
  
The drawing was in detailed pencil, all blacks and grays, and somehow the lack of color made it all the more beautiful. A great orca was there, nearly splashing off the page as it breached the water, its massive white belly catching the glint off the ocean. Makoto stared down at it, amazed. "...just like the one you drew on the whiteboard," he mused, almost to himself as he reverently touched the drawing, touched a piece of Haruka. He'd done this. For Makoto. No one else would understand a drawing like this, would they?

His smile just kept growing.

"I knew when I only saw your doodles that you'd amaze me with something real. This is... _Thank you_." He looked up, green eyes bright and watery. "I'll treasure it."

 

 

There were no words for how beautiful Makoto was when he smiled. No matter how many times Haruka saw it in their short acquaintance, it never failed to take his breath away. It wasn't uncommon for him to find things and people beautiful from an aesthetic and artistic perspective, but with Makoto it was different. When he looked at Makoto, he _felt_ things through his entire being, emotions and desires and wants and needs.

Makoto tried polite refusal, the rote words almost making Haruka laugh inside. He was wrong, so wrong; Haruka _needed_ to give this to him because it had been _his_ from the moment the shape formed inside Haruka's head. Every small line, every subtle shade, every transformation of negative space into part of the whole had been _for_ Makoto, _of_ Makoto.

He looked up when Makoto did, overwhelmed and overjoyed. Haruka reached out without hesitation, drawing his thumb along Makoto's lower lash line to smudge away the tears attempting escape. The thought of feeling self-conscious had been burned away by his honest, joyful tears. _Makoto is an orca_. The silent affirmation passed between them and Haruka gently patted Makoto's cheek with the palm of his hand, withdrawing the touch at last.

He gestured with his gaze at the box from Makoto, a tiny quirk of eyebrow making it a question: would it be all right to open it now? Permission granted, he gently slit the tape to remove the paper, marveling at the precise wrapping. Once open, he turned over the package of oil pastels (in the exact brand he'd been wanting), feeling something warm hiccup through him.

 _I don't have any of these yet,_ his eyes, shimmering blue waters, said, _but I've wanted them for a while. I'll have time to learn how to use them properly. Thank you, you understand what excites me._ Already ideas were jumbling in his mind: a night sky with shooting stars or fireworks overhead, an impressionistic view of the bay with the fishing boats, the stairs between their houses...so many ways to say to Makoto 'I'm glad I met you'.

 

 

At the end of the wonderful day with Haruka, Makoto went home and hung the picture up in his bedroom, smiling every time he looked at it. He even showed Ren and Ran, who were enthralled with the splashes of water that looked realistic to them, even in pencil. Whatever time Makoto spent in his bedroom, he always found time to look at the drawing, as it reminded him of Haruka and the time and effort he put into making it specifically for him.

 _Makoto is an orca_. That's what he'd said. Makoto wasn't sure he would have believed he could be anything that powerful or beautiful, but when Haruka said it, it felt like the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! We really didn't mean for this to turn out as long as it did but we regret nothing. Please hit us up on tumblr.
> 
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> [Phoenicia](http://mienaihane.tumblr.com/)  
> [snarkyscorp](http://fuwafuwafic.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto takes Haruka for a late night swim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as part of the RP Club for [the Official MakoHaru Festival 2015](http://theofficialmakoharufestival.tumblr.com/) but as you can see, it grew legs and ran away with us. Please forgive the formatting (perspective designations have been removed for the AO3 version) and huge thank-yous to the fest mod for partnering us!
> 
> This chapter hits the themes of: cold sweater weather, mounting attraction, sudden insight, you're mistaken, admitting defeat, long distance call

After the break for the New Year's holiday, Makoto returned to long hours at work, although he did spend some of that time texting Haruka just to keep in touch. The guys at the station gave him a hard time about his sudden addiction to his phone, and they railed on him for keeping his _girlfriend_ such a secret. Makoto merely smiled good-naturedly, changed the subject as quickly as possible, or just waved them off when they made those comments. It wasn't really so far from the truth, Makoto thought. After weeks of clutching his phone close whenever Haruka texted, he realized it was more than just friendship. It was something much, much deeper than that, and as scary as it was to feel so deeply for a man like Haruka, the more they texted or when Haruka sent udon up for his family or Makoto stopped by to check in on Haruka if he had time, the more he knew he would force himself to keep this simple instead of complicating Haruka's life.

He could do that, as long as they remained friends.

Eventually, the 25th came around, and Makoto had an idea. Haruka wouldn't be spoiled and smothered by his family anymore after today, and as much as Haruka would probably enjoy the solitary time to himself, Makoto also knew some part of him would be lonely after all that attention. So, he sent a text that morning:

**[Did the doctors give you the ok to swim a little? If you're free tonight, I can get us into the Swim Club. :)]**

 

As Haruka stood at the Iwatobi train station, waving his parents good-bye until Golden Week, he couldn't help feeling a tiny bit of elation. Finally, his time and his space were his own again, he could cook in just his apron and jammers without his mother draping a sweater or blanket on him. The past three weeks had flown by, filled with texts to and from Makoto. Their schedules hadn't aligned as often as Haruka would have liked, but when they had the time was precious. If Makoto came off shift near dinner time, Haruka tried to have something prepared that he could take home to share with his family. When Makoto set off, Haruka was often drinking tea and sketching near his bedroom window, which faced the steps, and they waved. Haruka ran into him once coming back from the art supplies store and Makoto carried his bags home for him. Little moments, little gestures, little pieces of Haruka's heart becoming Makoto's every day.

The phone in his pocket jingled, he still hadn't figured out how to change the default tones for everything, and Haruka dug to find it. He nearly dropped the phone in surprise, standing on the platform and trying to will his fingers to _move faster_.

**[YES.]**

He put it away before he dropped it from excitement. It was cold, but Haruka felt hot and bothered all over. Water. Makoto. Swimming. A trifecta of his favorite things, all together. Tonight.

Haruka turned, sprinting up the stairs from the train platform and not caring if he was winded when he reached the top. He'd driven the car today because he had shopping to do and a special order to pick up at the art store, but as he fumbled the keys from his pocket all other errands disappeared from his mind but one.

He needed to buy a new swimsuit.  
  
\----------------------------

In the end, Haruka bought three because each felt different. He dressed with his chosen jammers under his pants, stuffed a new swim cap and goggles into his bag along with a towel (and an extra pair of jammers to put on later), and pulled on an ivory v-necked sweater. He glanced up at the clock, only six hours until Makoto would be here.

To fill the time, Haruka hauled in the heavy roll of canvas from the car along with the wood, the gesso and the stretching tools. He'd been buying supplies a little at a time until the canvas arrived, and now he could assemble his own canvases, especially the two meter by one meter canvas for a life-sized painting, and prepare them for the oil pastels and paints.

The largest canvas leaned against the wall in the living room, gesso all but dry, when Makoto arrived. Haruka had cleaned up everything but still came to the door wearing his painting respirator (a precaution his doctor insisted upon if he was going to do anything in oils). His eyes lit up seeing Makoto, and he yanked the respirator off, rubbing over his nose to diminish the creases it left behind. He hadn't put his shoes on yet, so he fidgeted from one slippered foot to the other, so glad to see Makoto and so excited to swim with him.

 

 

Makoto still had his jammers from swim club, and that he managed to fit in them even now didn't seem to surprise him. He'd always kept in good shape, whether it was for club activities, work, or just to be healthy. But he certainly had no design to wear them under his clothes! And in fact, he couldn't imagine anyone walking around like that. They were comfortable enough for swimming, sure, but not for every day wear.

He arrived a few minutes early, unable to help himself. He was so excited! Swimming was something he'd really enjoyed in high school, and he knew by now how much the water meant to Haruka. He couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he first cut through the water's surface.

"Oh, were you painting?" he asked when Haruka answered the door. It wasn't an odd occurrence to arrive and find Haruka in that sort of state. He'd been doing a lot of art while the café was being rebuilt. "Can I..." A laugh interrupted his own question. There would be plenty of time to see the painting later; it was more than obvious from the state Haruka had worked himself into that he just wanted to get in the water already. "It's a little walk from here, but not far, and it's not as cold out today as it's been. Still, you should probably bring a scarf."

Makoto himself was wearing a coat and scarf, a bag slung over his shoulder containing his jammers and goggles.

 

 

Haruka nodded, then amended that with a shrug. _Prep work, not really painting yet._ The first step would be to sketch out everything, and he had every notion that some of what he wanted to sketch he'd see tonight. That is, if he could focus past the three-part harmony in his head of _WaterMakotoSwimming._ He took his coat off the hook, hanging the respirator in its place, and shrugged into it, adding a red scarf. He stepped down into the genkan, no longer on eye level with Makoto, and toed on his shoes. He picked up his bag, motioning for Makoto to go through the door first so he could lock it behind them.

Together, they descended down the steps towards the harbor, Haruka content to let Makoto lead with his longer strides (that shortened just a bit to allow for Haruka's pace) and soft conversation. They reached the bottom and salty air stirred through Haruka's dark hair. He closed his eyes, welcoming the breeze and the whispers from the water it brought, and moved to Makoto's other side as they turned parallel to the ocean. It might mean nothing, but Haruka put himself between Makoto and the sea, a thin human buffer. Even when they had to slow and stop for Haruka to catch his breath, he shifted in between Makoto's gaze and the water.

Hands by his side, they brushed Makoto's ever so often, the smallest kiss of skin to skin as neither man had pulled gloves from their pockets. Haruka felt eager, he felt content, he _felt._ Perhaps more than anything the entrance of Tachibana Makoto into his life had meant feeling so, so many things, things Haruka had ignored or suppressed or simply never experienced. In a tiny fishing town, his world became bigger than it ever had in Osaka, filled to overflowing with _Makoto_.

 

 

The Iwatobi Swim Club building wasn't a very long walk from where they lived, but that was usually with Makoto walking at his normal pace, not slowing to ensure Haruka didn't get too winded. He'd made a miraculous recovery, but they both knew it was tenuous and the smallest things could upset his progress. Haruka's parents had done a fine job keeping him sheltered from the weather and eating well, so Makoto hoped he'd be back to one hundred percent within a month.

As they walked, the ocean breeze whisked Haruka's hair, and Makoto couldn't help that his eyes were drawn to it more often than anything else. In the evening light, Haruka looked ethereal.

"It's not much further," he said, quietly, looking up at the dark sky and the stars that glittered above. As much as he feared the ocean and would have appreciated Haruka's action if he realized that's what it was for, he still loved Iwatobi. The village was charming down to its core, and Makoto had walked these streets so often he had them memorized. Nearest to the sea, that was okay. Makoto hadn't gone in the water, not _that_ water, since he was a boy, although he remembered the promise he made to Haruka, that they should go together some time, and he certainly meant to keep it.

"I borrowed keys from Sasabe-san, the current owner, so remind me to lock up when we're done." He grinned sidelong at Haruka. "I didn't want to spoil it too quickly...but we've got the entire club to ourselves tonight!" He'd been waiting for the right time to tell Haruka, but now seemed better than ever. "Sasabe used to coach me, when I was little. He hired me part time for my last few years in high school. I loved coaching the little kids."

 

 

All...to themselves? Haruka felt his chest swell with breath, his eyes open to their widest, his body tremble with delight under the shelter of the stars. He grabbed Makoto's hand, sprinting down the boardwalk about twenty steps before sense and reason caught up to him. No sense wasting all his energy before he even hit the water. He slowed to a reluctant powerwalk, chin tucked down in a self-conscious pout and looking out to the ocean. His body seemed to do things before his mind thought better of them when it involved water or swimming...or anything that truly moved him.

As in the hospital and the shrine, it didn't occur to him to let go of Makoto's hand. It was warm and welcoming, his big fingers enveloping Haruka's hand with ease. If not for the presence of the pool behind the walls, he would have felt bitterly sorry to see the swim club looming in front of them.

 

 

"A-ah, Haruka!" Makoto, dragged along, didn't really mind so much as it surprised him that Haruka was _running_. He hadn't seen him make any quick movements like that since the fire, but it was thrilling in entirely different ways when Haruka grabbed his hand like that and ran with him.

Laughing, Makoto squeezed Haruka's hand, gingerly taking a chance and fitting his fingers between Haruka's. He'd been wanting to do that a lot lately, but now seemed right.

"I suppose I should have known that would excite you, ne?" Still smiling, he walked the remainder of the distance with Haruka's hand clasped tightly in his and only released it when they were in front of the Swim Club. "The place is a little..." Chills bubbled up Makoto's spine. "...creepy, when it's so deserted." Yes, all six feet, 160 pounds of him was starting to cower a little. Like he was a little kid who believed in ghosts.

Which he did. But that was beside the point.

Unlocking the door, he held it open for Haruka. "We'll go down the hall and to the right, through the doors. There are locker rooms where we can get changed."

 

 

Haruka neither confirmed nor denied his excitement; he didn't need to when Makoto could read him so well. The best part was that Makoto didn't make him feel selfish or stupid or weird for his reactions, he accepted them with a warm, matter-of-fact laugh. If Makoto found it amusing and filled the space between them with fond mirth, Haruka saw no reason to try and temper his instincts. It was ultimately good for both of them.

Haruka's eyes narrowed, there was an undertone in Makoto's voice, a slight pull to his posture that had him on alert. That's right, he thought, Makoto doesn't do well with scary things. It was a contradiction, someone of his size being meek and jumpy, but it was so sincere; for all his brave face, Makoto was afraid of something as simple as an empty building, because he didn't know _what_ might be there. That fierceness came back in Haruka's chest, and he walked through the door, palming against the wall for the lights. Wherever they went in the swim club, he would go first and Makoto could be safe behind him.

The acrid, beautiful smell of chlorine hooked his nostrils as he stepped inside and Haruka took a deep, reverent breath. Barely over the threshold, he unfastened his coat and shrugged out of it, pullover sweater going next. Shoes he toed off and lightly kicked up to catch with one hand, and pants virtually teleported off his legs to lie over his arm, leaving him barefoot in black jammers trimmed in purple.

He turned, offering Makoto his free hand and a tiny smile. Now that he was appropriately (un)dressed, he could pave the way for Makoto.

 

 

Behind them, Makoto locked the door, even though he was a little anxious about locking them _inside_ the place empty. It was true, he didn't know what _could_ lurk in the shadows of this place when no one was using it, and that alone was scarier than almost anything he knew for sure. Shrugging out of his own coat, he was about to reach for Haruka's to hang them by the door when he felt a gust of wind and heard the sound of clothing being pulled down.

Against his better judgment, he turned to look at Haruka, who was.....

Who was.....

Words died in his throat, clenched off tight. He didn't even know...how...?? And that Haruka was half naked now, in nothing but swimming jammers, was all that Makoto's brain could focus on. The lines of his body, the _muscles_ that never quite showed through the clothes he wore or the bundle of winter warmth his mother continuously had forced upon him. The small spots of pink that still lingered where he'd been burned, where the most tender skin was still healing. Like this, Haruka looked...

He looked....

Makoto swallowed, a flush spreading slow and steady across his face, burning the backs of his ears, until he forced himself to look away before he made things awkward. "You....wear your jammers.... _under_..." Makoto, ever the talker, couldn't make himself focus enough to get proper words out or even string a sentence together coherently. He reached blindly for Haruka's coat and scarf. "I'll hang them up...for us!" Once both sets were hung, he glanced to Haruka and saw his offered hand and that...that _smile._

Suddenly, it was all Makoto could do to keep from reaching for his face instead, to pull him close, to bring their lips to meet. Overwhelmed, he finally slipped his fingers back into Haruka's hand, the feel of it so _right_ it was more frightening than any ghost.

"It's...this way," he said, gesturing with his free hand. "Do you always...erm.... I mean, that was so quick! You must really love water to want to get in it that fast." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to cool himself off as he laughed warmly. "Come to think of it, I can't imagine it any other way." He smiled down at Haruka, giving his hand a squeeze to ensure him that little panic attack was only shock. "If you undress that fast, I can't even guess how fast you'll swim!"

  

 

Haruka nodded, completely without shame. Whether with words or with his eyes, he wasn't sure he could ever explain how _free_ he felt this way, what a sheer relief it was to have jammers that fit the right way so close to his skin. Makoto looked a little uncomfortable still, heat still covering his face, but he didn't look afraid. Perhaps his propensity for shedding his clothes could have other benefits if it distracted Makoto from worrying and scaring himself.

He tugged a still-dressed Makoto in the indicated direction, the glorious, sensual chlorine scent growing stronger with every step. The sign that read 'boys locker room' pointed the way, and Haruka made it a point to find the lights in there, too. Despite what some would call his 'exhibitionist tendencies', Haruka didn't take much pride in his own body; it was functional and generally obedient to what he asked of it. He stripped at high speed in order to get to the water, not to be seen or to give aesthetic appreciation to others. He knew how he compared physically to Rin, for example, and he didn't bother comparing to Yamazaki, steroid-looking giant that he was.

_But what will Makoto look like?_

Shoulders for days, Haruka knew; those already showed through his clothes. Powerful hips and thighs. Solid, defined arms. The mystery was almost a present, waiting to be unwrapped, and Haruka found his hands itched to divest Makoto of clothing as quickly as he did his own. He opened a locker, doing his best to both stay still and not charge ahead to the pool and only sneak the most subtle of glances Makoto's way.

 

 

It felt almost perverse, to change in front of Haruka like this, when he was already in his swim things and ready to go. Part of Makoto wanted to rush him off, but the more responsible part reminded himself that Haruka still wasn't completely healed, and if he got hurt, Makoto would never forgive himself.

The backs of his ears remained red as he toed off his shoes, tugged off socks, and generally made the slowest of strips. Or at least, it would seem that way, given the speed compared to Haruka's and how Makoto liked to put everything in its proper place when he changed. Especially now, when he was so anxious.

Shirt first, he indeed had shoulders for days, similar to Sousuke's build but a little slimmer in his breadth and more defined around his middle, arms, and thighs. Firefighting was a full body sort of job, so it wasn't just his shoulders and back getting the majority of his workouts these days. But he still had a swimmer's build in some respects, and quite a few scars marring the otherwise perfectly tanned portions of skin he revealed. His muscles shifted as he lifted the shirt over his head and folded it up in the locker. Onto his pants, he hesitated, but ultimately shucked them, the blush creeping over the back of his neck when he bent over to step out.

Taking out his jammers, Makoto tried to be quick about the last of his clothes, but Haruka, if he watched, would get a nice look at Makoto's thick thighs and the pert round of his ass. From Haruka's angle, he might even be able to catch a glance of more than that, Makoto's length before it was tucked under the spandex of his long black jammers, green piping racing down the sides.

When he was done, he smiled. "Let's swim!" And this time, he went first, moving to get the lights once they reached the pool. It glittered and sparkled and Makoto hung back a moment to admire the stillness of the moment.

 

 

Haruka carefully placed his own things in his chosen locker, his mind full of _WaterMakotoSwimming_ on a continuous loop, stuttering a bit each time the loop replayed to _Makoto_. The air in the locker room felt impossibly thick, difficult to breathe and heavy as honey in his lungs. Haruka was no stranger to physical attraction, even if he found most aspects of the traditional idea of a "relationship" tedious and unappealing, and Makoto's lure had been well and truly spun around him for some time. Before the fire, even, the firefighter had caught his eye, and unable to step forward and verbalize the desire to connect he'd begun drawing the trees on the boxes.

Makoto's clothes left his body a piece at a time, and Haruka watched beneath the shade of his eyelashes, thankful for once that his outward detachment gave the impression his attention was perpetually elsewhere. Makoto was so beautiful, shade from the overhead light dappling the dips of muscle across his back, turning richly dark in the valley of his spine leading down to the slight dimples on either side. His body was classical sculpture, heavy and Romanesque, the scars from his line of work more a humanizing artistic choice than any sort of flaw. The pants slid to the floor, followed by underwear...

His breath caught in the tightness of his throat, the sound clamped behind a wall of will and teeth. Haruka had a good imagination, but reality shredded it into so many tiny confetti bits and scattered them in a blurred whirlwind. He'd experienced attraction to both men and women in the past, but ultimately men drew him more, and Makoto was a magnet that Haruka's iron filings wished to plaster themselves against, skin to skin.

The new jammers fit tightly without excessive smoothness, and a few quiet, deep breaths managed to wrest his body's impulsive reaction under control. _Water_ , he thought again, desiring cold wet to soothe the rest of it away. Makoto now wore black legskins, the material clinging to every delicious centimeter of his long legs. Haruka _needed_ to be in the water, _right away_ , and he was thankful Makoto led the way to the pool.

The pool...

He saw it, sucking the cleansing chlorine scent into his lungs, and Haruka sprang forward, crossing the distance in three long strides before pushing off at the edge and soaring into a dive. The water greeted him with glee, dolphin kick generating bubbles as he sped to the middle of the pool before surfacing for breath, arms cutting one after the other in hypnotic crawl strokes. A simple, precise flip turn at the other end rebalanced the world, and Haruka felt the water urging him on. His stroke was faster, cleaner, growing stronger each meter it carried him back until his hand touched the wall. He was out of breath as he yanked goggles and cap off in one motion, a little ashamed of his continued lack of endurance, but he felt _healed_ , and he craved Makoto in the water with him.

 

 

A laugh echoed through the room as he watched Haruka charge past him and dive in. Part of Makoto worried, of course (this was likely too much, too soon), but the joy written all over Haruka's face inspired him to let the moment be. Haruka wouldn't jump in if he didn't think he could handle it. He watched in amazement as Haruka cut through the water, and edged closer to watch his turn.

That....

He'd never seen anyone do it so smoothly. Likely, Haruka wasn't even at his best, and he still sliced through the water like it opened a path directly for him. Like he belonged in it. It was quite a sight, actually. Beautiful. Almost professional. Makoto had only been in a few matches in high school, but he'd never seen anyone swim like Haruka. Not even the top swimmers in their prefecture. And when Haruka breached the surface at the end of his lap, the water ricocheted off his hair and face in a perfect arch. Haruka's lips parted so wide Makoto could practically see him sucking air into his lungs. Black hair slicing over his skin, water rippling down.

It was.... It was a turn-on.

Haruka wouldn't have to wait long for Makoto to join him; he simply couldn't wait another second to be in the water beside him. The second Haruka came up for air, Makoto jumped into the adjoining lane. It felt nice as he sank beneath the water's surface, all the sounds of the world above muted. He came up after a time, wading near Haruka and smiling brightly at the look on his face.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look happier," he said, his voice warm and full of an affection he didn't think he could hide anymore. "You swim like a professional. Did you ever think of going pro? I've just...never seen anyone look that good in the water. Like you belong here more than on land." He thought of what Haruka's mother had said, and now he understood it more than ever.

 

 

Haruka grabbed the lane divider between them, tucking it under his arms so he could lazily float, legs in slow scissors, while he regained his wind. His goggles and cap he clutched in one hand, white Ties logo on his swim cap bright against the black. Makoto said he'd never seen him happier, and Haruka knew it was true; everything in the world, no matter what transpired on land, seemed to align for him when he was in the water.

Makoto's question was complicated, and the answer to it more so, something Haruka tried to convey with his eyes. Going pro had been _all_ Rin talked about, all their high school team had focused on, even when Haruka couldn't muster up an internal sense of caring about his times. _I love the water,_ he'd told Rin once at elevated volume, _but I don't love competing like you and Yamazaki do! I can't pretend that it's true just because you want it to be!_ Rin's dad, their coach, had tried everything, but once he knew Haruka wouldn't change his mind he called a halt to further pressure from Rin and told his son not to waste their _now_ because he wasn't getting what he wanted _later_. They graduated, and Rin hastened to Australia and an Olympic coach, Yamazaki and his terrible English in his wake, neither one looking back.

_I thought about it...but it wasn't meant for me._

Haruka tipped his head to one side, eyes on Makoto before they flicked down the lane and back. _Can I see you swim?_

 

Some things were impossible to say without words, but Makoto got the gist from Haruka's complicated expression. Something about the idea of going pro disturbed him. Makoto nodded. When Haruka got his voice back, he'd ask him again and get a more detailed answer, but for now, it made sense, a little. Makoto had never been so talented in any sport that he'd be considered for a professional team, so he didn't understand the pressures that could push onto him, but he did understand the freedom that came with doing things without pressure or money or fame.

Maybe Haruka was just that way. Happier without calling it a career or job. Just content to exist in the water whenever he could.

Following Haruka's glance, he laughed. "Ah, well... I'm sure I'm rusty." Still, as he took a look down the long lane behind him, he remembered the thrill of swimming for a team, of being in the water, heart racing, pushing himself beyond his physical limits. "But to be honest, now that I've seen you swim, I want to show you my stroke as well." He grinned a little, fitting his goggles on. They had a slight green tint to them.

Rolling his shoulders, he knew he should have stretched, but suddenly, all that mattered was proving to Haruka that this wasn't a joke. That they could share the water, somehow. He reached up for the grips on the starting block above his lane, the muscles in his broad shoulders and back gathering and bunching as he curled there in his starting position. It had indeed been a long time, so when he pushed off the wall, he wasn't in a perfect arch, but the ingrained muscle memory was rote.

A second later, he was under the water, legs fluttering to boost his speed, and a thrill slid through him. He came up nearly fifteen meters from the start, powering his arms one by one behind him, hands catching the water to push through it. When he neared the wall, he didn't need to twist to see the turn coming - he'd swam in these waters enough to memorize his stroke count. His turn certainly wasn't without flaw, but the power in his legs propelled him further despite his lack of professional skill, and when he touched back at the starting block, he came up with a broad, breathless smile, whipping his goggles off with a laugh.

"Wow!! It's been so long!" he gasped, face a little red from exertion.

 

 

Haruka moved back, standing near the wall in his own lane, arms restlessly moving beneath the surface as he watched Makoto, as he _felt_ Makoto in the water. The sensations would be stronger, he knew, if they were racing _together_ , in the same lane and with the same goal, but Makoto's power and intensity--like an orca, just as Haruka had pictured--seemed to fly and surround him, waves and bubbles caressing him. There was an emotional intimacy to swimming in the same waters as another person, it broke down barriers and left feelings, needs and desires behind.

 _Makoto's_ feelings...Makoto's joy in swimming. Like Rin, and nothing like Rin. Rin was fire when he touched the water, even the water itself getting heated up and agitated by his presence. Makoto, even in the middle of his overwhelmingly power, radiated calm and healing as his waters lapped around Haruka. If Rin was fire, Makoto was earth, nourishing and protecting.

Being a complete specialist, Haruka never thought critically about the execution of others in their swimming; it was simply theirs, how they and the water did things. A small smile did curve his mouth when Makoto made his turn, he had seen more than one backstroker lose count and kiss the wall with his head. The closer Makoto came, the more his feelings fluttered in the water, schools of tiny fish whisking around Haruka. His finishing laughter was music, his smile almost too bright to look at.

 _You did well!_ Haruka's blue eyes reflected the water and the excitement in it, deep and mysterious and welcoming all at once. The cap he’d tossed out of the pool for now, the goggles resting on his forehead. _I've caught my breath, want to swim together? Not racing, just laps._ Haruka could spend hours in a pool, making lazy back-and-forth circuits, floating on his back when he tired. He just wanted to be in the water, to share it with Makoto.

 

 

Makoto nodded to Haruka's unspoken desire. "I'm so glad we can do this together," he said. "The firefighters, they prefer _sport_ sports, as they call them." He chuckled at the look Haruka gave him. "Things that require balls, you know? Basketball, mostly. And it's fun, and challenging in its own ways, but there's really nothing like getting in the water, is there?"

Turning around, he gestured. "Let's take this next one slow. Together, ne?"

And this time, Makoto would swim freestyle alongside Haruka. At one point, Makoto had tried all the different styles, but he'd never excelled in anything like backstroke. Freestyle would have been his second choice though. He liked cutting his hands through the water like that.

They turned at the far end in tandem, went under together, and Makoto spared a sidelong glance, losing his breath at the sight before him: Haruka looked...like a mermaid. Like he could live down there, beneath the water, forever. Makoto spent too much time watching him and eventually had to surface clumsily, bringing up the rear as they neared the starting point again.

 

 

Team sports...had never been Haruka's thing. More than once he'd simply wandered off the baseball field in PE because he was bored, or drew all sorts of things instead of the stats he was supposed to keep. He'd heard of water polo, of course, but he didn't think the water liked to be chopped and churned that much just to play a game. _The water is best_ , he thought. Though, didn't Makoto play basketball with the other firefighters? That might be tolerable to watch. It couldn't compare to Makoto in legskins, cutting through the water, but just as food came in all sorts of flavors, so too did food for the eyes. Tasting basketball no longer seemed unappealing.

They swam in slow synch, every crawl stroke feeling precious yet ephemeral. Haruka wished to grasp and keep the water they shared in his hands, but water was water; no matter how tight the grip, it would eventually trickle back into the whole of the pool. Makoto's freestyle had a different beauty from his backstroke; it lacked the confidence but still bubbled with power. Haruka made the turn, a little surprised that when he tilted his head to breathe Makoto was no longer right beside him and the water almost sighed in the absence.  
  
He reached the other end of the pool, tapping the wall with his hand out of habit, and ducked under the barrier into Makoto's lane. Haruka held out his hands in clear demand for Makoto's, palms pressing together and fingers interlacing. With he squeezed Makoto's hands, a silent entreaty for him to breathe. They inhaled in concert and Haruka drew both of them underneath where they could float in the silence, tethered together until air became necessary. Under the water, Makoto's hands in his, everything else seemed so far away, only Makoto's green eyes and callused hands existing in Haruka's world.

They surfaced, breathing in twin gasps. Water dripped from Makoto's chin and Haruka was mesmerized by it, slightly jealous of each droplet's path down the tanned landscape of his neck. Their hands remained joined, though their bodies were at arms' length, as if some unseen force kept them both from leaning forward to close the distance and shrink the gap between them. Hesitance, fear of rejection or misunderstanding, uncertainty...Haruka knew the water nearest to him held all of those and he was glad Makoto didn't seem able to read his feelings in the water.

The water moved around his body, as if it sought to take away those negative feelings and replace them with something new. A sudden playful spark flashed in Haruka's eyes and he pulled his hands free, tapping Makoto's shoulder and mouthing 'tag' before springing away in a delphine streak, swimming under the lane barriers and encouraging a chase.

 

 

Under the water, it was a different world. Haruka was beautiful on the surface, but that was nothing to what he looked like with his hair curling and coiled above him, around him, his blue eyes somehow bluer than the water, his entire body free in a way Makoto knew didn't exist anywhere else. Maybe in his kitchen at the café. Maybe.

This was the Haruka that he....

As they surfaced, Makoto panted, unable to give up his hold on Haruka's hands, his legs taking the brunt of the work to keep him afloat. It was easy to lose himself in watching water drizzle down Haruka's face, dripping off his chin, flattening his hair to his skull. And it was even easier to want so badly to kiss the water from the corner of his small mouth, the little upturn that signaled a smile, that had been there since he'd dived in.

 _I want him_.

The thought came out of nowhere and yet from everywhere, as Haruka tagged him and sprinted away beneath the water. Makoto had to swallow the sudden emotions down they were so intense, but it was better that Haruka moved away. Makoto had been sure there for a second that he was really going to close the distance and kiss him, and if they were swimming, he wouldn't be able to do that. Still, following Haruka under the water and trying to catch him only made Makoto more aware of what he wanted to do if he got his hands on him.

 _This_ was the Haruka that he wanted. This beautiful man who fell in love with water before anything or anyone else.

After a time spent splashing and chasing, Makoto finally swam out to the center of the pool to take a breath. He was still panting as he motioned for Haruka to join him.

"Okay, so." He laughed, gasping for air. "We've established that you're _much_ faster than me. Can we rest here, for a minute?" He didn't say, but he was also worried for Haruka's health; the doctors may have cleared him to swim, but certainly not to this extent. There in the middle of the pool, he leaned back, until he was lying flat, floating in the calm waters.

 

 

Haruka was deeply winded and growing tired, though he did his best not to show it. He wouldn't want Makoto to feel responsible--and he wasn't, Haruka chose on his own to swim and play from one end of the pool to the other. It was embarrassing how fragile his endurance still was, labored breaths whistling slightly. So much work to do until he was back to himself, though the doctor had told him any injury or illness to the lungs took time to heal. He, too, turned on his back, letting natural buoyancy take over and drifting near Makoto.

Haruka closed his eyes, nearly relaxed enough to doze in the water's healing embrace, and felt his hand bump against Makoto's. Their hands laced together without conscious thought, fingertips wrinkled, as they floated. The swim club was achingly quiet, the cycles of their slowing breathing, the gentle hum of the building's heat, the placid flow of the water the only discernible sounds.

The slight current from their displacement caressed against Haruka's submerged ears, as if the water was whispering secrets to him. His own secrets, focused on the rightness of Makoto's hand in his and how despairingly he wanted this accord, this _bond_ to continue. The water knew, the water _always_ knew, and its renewing presence surrounded Haruka in encouragement. Simply everything had felt right since Makoto blazed into his life, since the distant acquaintance of Tachibana morphed into the warm, genuine, captivating existence of _Makoto_. At every stage in what should have been a frightening ordeal, Makoto had extended a hand to him, guiding him along the path at a pace they both could maintain. Staying by his side. Speaking without any words. Bringing him saba miso and puzzles. Smiling gently with the flicker of Christmas lights in his eyes. Casting wishes to the heavens together.

Selfish, selfish wishes. Haruka had asked to stay beside Makoto's side, but his deepest want transcended their new friendship. He wanted a companion, a partner...not just a friend but a person just for him. He wanted someone to take care of, someone who would take care of him, someone with whom he could share everything. He wanted Makoto. _Only_ Makoto. The water bubbled agreement and approval, silently urging him on. Urging him to connect the circuit and let it conduct the electricity between them.

The same needy desperation that launched his feet forward and clothes by the wayside when he saw water, that had him taking off at a run when he could barely draw breath, that flooded him with heat from ears to crotch whenever Makoto smiled...combusted in him, translated want to action in an instant when he tugged them to a standing stop near the pool's edge.

"Makoto...." Haruka's voice was pitched lower than Makoto's, smoke-roughened and sandpapery from disuse, but it called the firefighter's name in a siren's song. Haruka took advantage of Makoto's shock, colliding and crashing into him with a fierce, aggressive kiss as Haruka's lithe legs wrapped around Makoto's hips, a sea creature capturing prey without mercy. Haruka hungered and he meant to devour Makoto whole, tongue sliding into his mouth and memorizing his teeth by feel alone. "Makoto..." Haruka repeated as he breathed, sucking in air with a greed he returned fourfold in his exploration of Makoto's lips and tongue. He nipped, he teased, small erotic sounds pulsing in his throat as he gripped Makoto's wet hair.

 

 

It was the first word that Makoto ever heard Haruka speak, and it was _his name_. His name _like that_ , on Haruka's lips. His name on Haruka's tongue. His name in a throaty purr, maybe more a possessive growl, but his name. Haruka was whispering his name.

And Makoto had never heard the three syllables sound so perfect. He was too shocked to do anything but let Haruka guide him until his toes touched the floor, his spine scraping against the rough pool wall, the water sloshing choppily around their suddenly joined bodies. Too startled to even get a reply out, Makoto gasped into the kiss, into the sudden depth of Haruka's mouth and the way his warm, warm tongue rolled over the front of his teeth and then sank towards the molars too, like he was memorizing the shape of the inside of Makoto's mouth.

An actual _groan_ spilled out then. A desperate sort of noise, as both hands jumped to hold Haruka's slim waist. Head spinning, Makoto found himself embarrassingly turned on, to the point that if Haruka sank a little further down against his hips, he would likely feel just how hot and bothered he'd become. With enough sense to keep that from happening, Makoto tried to hold Haruka up higher against him. It made kissing a little more difficult, but hardly impossible with the way Haruka's legs clutched around him, with the ferocity in which he kissed, like there was nothing in the world that could stop him once he started.

Hands in his hair, Makoto groaned again, tentatively seeking Haruka's mouth with his own tongue and feeling numbly desperate to crawl out of the pool and lay Haruka down for better access to the slick heat of his mouth.

 

 

The deeper Haruka kissed Makoto, the more things seemed to spiral out of control, escaping the tenuous grasp of his fingertips, sliding away and melting in the furious heat generated between two wet bodies. Panting, Haruka rutted against Makoto's hipbone, lost to sensation and the flow of water around them, filled to the brim with taking Makoto's mouth. Teeth gripped as Haruka sucked on Makoto's lower lip, eager and dominating, pushing assertively and barreling forward without waiting for permission. Haruka wasn't conscious of Makoto kissing him back, and part of him didn't care if he'd surprised Makoto into stillness. His teeth tightened, eliciting a small hiss from Makoto.

_Makoto does not deserve to be hurt._

Haruka wrenched himself from Makoto, flailing back into the water's grasp, breathing heavily, blue eyes blown wide open with lust, lust that slowly transformed into horror and pain.  
  
_I'll have to be extra careful that I don't hurt you._

What the hell had he just done? What the hell was wrong with him? How could he get so carried away and _water-fucked-in-the-head_ to attack and take advantage of Makoto with his selfish, selfish want? To push his needy, desperate feelings on him?

_You just ruined **everything** , Haruka.  There will never be a person just for you._

"Sorry," Haruka managed to choke past the hateful knot of shame in his throat. Like a watery gazelle, he sprang past Makoto, up and out of the pool, bare feet slapping the tile at a full run. The locker banged open, Haruka's clothes flying back on with equal speed of their disappearance. He hopped into his shoes, sprinting down the hall to his coat and the locked door. Fortunately, it was locked to the outside only, the bar giving way and releasing him to the cold January night and the knowledge that Makoto could not, _would not_ ever forgive him.

 

 

Makoto was in heaven. He hadn't kissed very many other people in his short life thus far, but he could say without a doubt that Haruka was an _excellent_ kisser. Passionate in a way that Makoto had never experienced before, and even the sting of a hiss he let out because Haruka bit his mouth wasn't all bad - it was just so unexpected. Still, it must have spooked Haruka, because he jumped off Makoto like he'd literally been burned by him.

Eyes heavy, Makoto panted, leaning against the wall with red, red lips, his lower one swollen from the nip. Below the water, even as cool as it was, Makoto was hard and wanting. The only thing that stopped him from diving through the short distance Haruka put between them was the look on Haruka's face.

That tangle of misery tied a knot in Makoto's that sank straight out of his stomach in fear. What sort of a look was that to give someone after you kissed them and they kissed back? After things had been so _good_? Makoto was suddenly very afraid that he'd done something wrong. Had Haruka felt his erection? Had that frightened him off? Or was Makoto that bad of a kiss----no. No that wasn't it. Haruka wouldn't wear an expression that serious for something like that.

He reached out, but it was too late. By the time his fingers meant to brush over Haruka's skin, Haruka was gone. Out of the pool in a frantic splash, the wave of his exit washing over Makoto's stunned still body like a slap to the face.

"Haru---!" Maybe he'd said _Haruka_ but the final syllable got lost or maybe his voice choked it off in pain. Either way, the shortened name echoed in a high pitch in the empty pool, bouncing off the tiles and ringing in Makoto's ears. Sickened, he leaped out of the pool, clumsy in his worry, slipping on the tiles as he raced into the locker room. By then, it was too late. Haruka was already halfway down the hall, a trail of wet footprints in his wake. Makoto followed, got to the door only in time to watch Haruka's sprint until he disappeared around the corner.

Makoto clutched his chest with one broad fist, shaking a little. His entire body was vibrating, and he felt panicked worse than the day he'd found out the old fisherman had died. It brought back that same slow burn of regret, and Makoto ran through all of the things he should or could have done to prevent this.

But... _Haruka_ had kissed _him_.

He padded back to the locker room, taking a seat on one of the benches to calm his nerves, but no amount of deep breathing helped.

He was _scared_. Makoto was devastatingly scared of losing Haruka. Because....

Because....

 _Because I love him_ , he realized, and that only actually made the pain worse. He scrambled to find his cell phone, calling Haruka. _Please. Please pick up. Please don't hate me, I'm sorry, please, please_...

 

 

Haruka ran without direction, lungs screaming and vision blurring from lack of oxygen, but he had to put distance between himself and...

_No! How can you even think his name after what you did? You forced your feelings on him because you're too damned impulsive when you want something!_

He stumbled over a rough spot in the sidewalk, inelegantly staggering to stay upright. Balance restored, he gripped his knees, dropping his head and gasping for breath, unable to tell in the weak streetlight if the water dripping to the concrete was sweat or tears. Haruka heaved, gulping down oxygen until he felt less light-headed, but nothing could take away the heaviness inside him.

He scrubbed a forearm over his eyes as he stood up, head aching, chest tight in a way that had nothing to do with his desperate sprinting. A faint, smoky scent tickled at his nose and he realized his blind flight had taken him towards the place in Iwatobi he knew best, the charred remains of the Purple Cat café.

Haruka shivered, feet moving without conscious thought towards the former restaurant. He unzipped his bag, body on autopilot, and pulled out his favorite towel, the grayish one with the light blue dots, and draped it over his head to cover his still-wet hair. Much of the debris had been cleared, leaving the footprint largely bare. Here had been the twelve small tables, there the dessert cooler, the register, the chalkboard announcing the daily specials in bright colors and small drawings. Through this path, the kitchen, the stove and the stand mixer and his favorite pair of cooking chopsticks. The marker that he drew on top of the boxes with. The cutout window between the front and the back was about here, with its view of the café and...

The spot where Haruka had first seen him. Tall, puppy-eager, friendly, bright and warm as the sun with a monumental gravity, enough to pull even something as isolated and stubborn as Haruka into orbit. This place was where everything in Haruka's life caught fire and burned him alive, forging away what was unimportant and unnecessary and leaving behind only...

"Makoto..." A sob, a prayer, his name hiccupped brokenly from Haruka's lips, crushing in the truth it carried. Haruka knew he would never be able to be 'just friends', not when there was so much inside him _yearning_ only for Makoto, _needing_ him with desperation, _terrified_ to go back to a life that had never been lonely until now. He crouched down with arms around his knees, trying to make the gashed-open feeling go away and think of anything but how much it _hurt_. That fortune, that fucking cursed romance fortune...it was right after all.

The phone abruptly rang, a frightening summons with 'Makoto' plastered on the screen. "I can't..." Haruka whispered as he rejected the call with shaking fingers, turning the ringer off and throwing it back in his bag, head heavy and heart aching.

_I don't cry. It's too much effort. But if I think someone hurt you....if **I** hurt you...._

The first tear splashed on Haruka's hand with a tiny raindrop _plip_ , two more knocking it from its perch. He watched them slide down the webbing of his thumb and the dam broke, towel-covered dark head dropping onto his knees as he inhaled and sobbed, mourning losing something that had never really been his in the first place, feeling the fire in his heart turning to ash.

He had no idea how long he was there weeping himself hoarse, how long it took him to cry himself out into a complete mess of tattered, wounded emotions. He felt fragile and defeated, brittle enough to break if he breathed in too hard. Haruka took a tentative, shaky breath that didn't fly right back out as a sob, then another and another until his body accepted the new rhythm. He pulled the phone back out, '24 Missed Calls' showing on the screen when he unlocked it. Chest tight, his finger hesitated a long moment over Makoto's name in the call list before pressing the one two names below, making a call Haruka never thought he'd make.

"Rin?" His voice trembled despite his efforts to breathe, and he ignored the desperate-sounding 'what's wrong?', 'are you _crying??'_ , and 'goddammit, Haruka, you're fucking scaring me!' stuffed into the international static while he tried to summon the courage to say one simple, excruciating phrase around the knot of pain in his throat.

"I need help."

 

 

After the first call, Makoto knew Haruka was rejecting it. That didn't stop him from calling a total of twenty-five times trying desperately to get in touch with him, though. He didn't leave a voicemail, mostly because he wasn't sure what to say. _I'm sorry_ sounded too small for how he felt, and _I love you_ was far too honest. If he'd truly done something that scared Haruka off, then certainly a confession was even further out of bounds for their relationship.

The worst of it was... Makoto could still feel Haruka's mouth on his, Haruka's hands tangled in his hair, Haruka's body against his. Long, long after he dressed, cleaned up, and stood outside of the swimming club’s locked door, he could still smell Haruka and chlorine, could still taste him.

He checked his phone ten times on the way home, practically every minute, hoping and praying that Haruka would at the very least text him. Even if he said _I hate you_ or _go away_ , that would be better than the silence that choked off their friendship at its core. Up until now, Makoto had never been particularly worried about misunderstanding Haruka's silences, but his word, his first real word since they met, seemed to carry with it too much for Makoto to fully comprehend. It had sounded sincere. Full of lust. Vibrating with desire. And yet in retrospect, Makoto didn't really know what the sound meant at all. Maybe he'd taken things too far in his own greed, but...

But he kept circling back to it: _Haruka_ kissed _him_.

By the time he stood in front of the gate to his home, his eyes were glassy and red-rimmed. He glanced briefly over towards Haruka's house, but the windows were dark. If Haruka was in there, he wouldn't answer the door for Makoto, not after ignoring his calls all night. It hurt. It hurt like a thousand knives piercing his chest, bleeding his heart out. One last look at his phone reminded him all he needed to know: Haruka didn't want to talk to him. Not now and maybe not ever again.

Toeing his shoes off once inside his home, Makoto sat on the genkan for a long, long time. Staring straight ahead, unseeing, he tried not to let the last of him break from the pain. He could hear the television on in the adjoining room, Ren and Ran's laughter floating in through the otherwise still of the house. It was hard suddenly, to hear them having a good time, when he was so emotionally drained. The thought of greeting them with his usual enthusiasm felt nearly impossible.

The smile that was perpetually plastered onto his face couldn't be summoned. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt like he'd forgotten how the expression worked.

"Onii-chan?"

Makoto looked up. There in the doorway between the living room and entry stood Ren, already in his pajamas. It was right then Makoto saw the man Ren would become; the shadow of that man was standing there before him, growing up so quickly, like he might lose Ren too in the blink of an eye. Makoto stood up, forcing a smile as best he could as he silently gathered Ren close to him.

"Makoto," Ren complained, but he didn't pull away. In fact, after a time, Ren's arms wound around his older brother's middle, and he sighed. "What happened at the fire station?"

It was amazing, what kids understood, even barely on the cusp of adulthood.

"Nothing, don't worry," Makoto said, combing his fingers through Ren's hair. He'd shaved the sides. The front was a little long, rough with product.

"It's not _nothing_ ," Ran said, coming into view, looking a little sullen in her pout. She had her long hair braided for bed, a few strands loose from its plait.

"I mean, nothing to do with the station," Makoto backtracked. Still, it was clear even to his siblings that something was intensely wrong with him, and so Makoto gave in, reaching to grab Ran's hand to drag her into the embrace too. "I've just had a very bad encounter, and..." He choked up a little. "It's very complicated actually." How could he phrase it best to them, at such an important age? Just recalling the details himself pulled at his chest, and the tears finally began to fall. "Sorry, sorry... Maybe I can't talk right now, actually."

It was such an awful feeling. While extremely happy to see his family, and feeling so lucky and blessed to be loved, to have them in his life, there was a hole inside him now. A hole that Haruka had been filling, when Makoto himself didn't even realize just how much until it was hollowed out in his absence.

"It sounds like heartbreak," Ren said, with such honesty that it strained his young voice.  
  
Ran kissed Makoto's cheek, up on her tip-toes to reach him, and then pulled back, reaching for his hand. "Come on. I paused the movie."

"You don't have to do that," Makoto tried.

"We do," they both said at once.

As soon as Makoto was seated on the couch with them, Ran asked, "Remember what you used to do with us when we were sad?"

"Yes, but you were quite a bit smaller then," Makoto excused. He didn't like pushing them away, but the thing he wanted most of all was to be alone, to cradle his phone against his chest and pray to the gods that Haruka would at least let him know somehow that he was okay. Still, he let Ren and Ran get on either side of him like they had when they were much, much younger, and he lifted his arms to let them in. Despite his desperate need to be alone, he hugged his siblings tight against his chest.

For a long while, the three of them sat together, saying nothing.

In a few years, Ren and Ran might be too old for this sort of thing. Maybe they'd become rebellious in high school; maybe they wouldn't want anything to do with their older brother anymore. Maybe he would lose them too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! We really didn't mean for this to turn out as long as it did but we regret nothing. Please hit us up on tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> [Phoenicia](http://mienaihane.tumblr.com/)   
>  [snarkyscorp](http://fuwafuwafic.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the only way to happiness is to say what's in your heart. Haruka finds his voice at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as part of the RP Club for [the Official MakoHaru Festival 2015](http://theofficialmakoharufestival.tumblr.com/) but as you can see, it grew legs and ran away with us. Please forgive the formatting (perspective designations have been removed for the AO3 version) and huge thank-yous to the fest mod for partnering us!
> 
> This chapter hits the themes of: you're mistaken, mounting attraction, prove it, sudden insight, no regrets, it’s for you, valentine’s day

 

The next day, Makoto still hadn't received any word from Haruka. Nothing. Not a text, not a call, not even a note taped to his front door or anything. It hurt to be suddenly cut out of Haruka's life like that, without compassion, but at the same time, he sort of understood. Haruka was scared. Makoto just wished he knew what he'd done so he could remedy it. The worst of it was that he couldn't tell Haruka it was okay if they didn't kiss or hold hands anymore, because he wasn't sure if he could live like that. He wanted Haruka. All of Haruka.

So he gave him space. He paused by the gate to Haruka’s house every morning on the way to work, sent small texts to let Haruka know he wasn't anywhere near forgotten, and tried his best not to think about it while at the fire station.

Three days passed like this, with Makoto moving like an empty ghost between the station and home, feeling sucked dry of emotion. All he knew was that he loved Haruka, and he'd never felt so lost without someone before.

"Oi, Tachibana," one of the other firemen called. Makoto didn't hear him the first two times, apparently, because this time, his name was accompanied by a pen that was flung at the back of his head.

"Mm?" he asked, looking up from his phone, which he still had cradled in his grip like a lifeline. He absently rubbed the back of his head where the pen had hit, but he barely felt it at all.

"Wake up for a few minutes. We're ordering lunch. What do you want?"

 _What do I want? I want Haruka_.

 

 

The silver Toyota Vitz pulled up near the fire station and parked, its driver trying to still the nervous tremble of his hands. Haruka had spoken more to Rin in the past few days than probably their entire since-grade-school friendship, and as a result he had come to a much greater appreciation of Rin's social skills and relationship savvy. Rin cut through all of his excuses and confusion and patiently helped Haruka translate this multitude of new, unfamiliar emotions into concrete words and a plan of action. Rin's advice included doing everything on Valentine's Day for maximum romantic impact, but Haruka knew he couldn't wait that long to see Makoto again. That was the one thing in the whole equation he knew Rin couldn't quite understand, never having been separated from Yamazaki for more than a week at a time. The time apart from Makoto already bordered on unbearable, full of emptiness and longing. Haruka knew he needed Makoto's presence in his life, needed him like he had never needed any other person before, but there were things he had to make right between them first.

_Just...dive in, don't resist, and feel your way through. If he really understands you like you think, he'll know what you mean even if you muddle it a little. Don't make it harder than it is, Haruka. Sousuke and I are rooting for you._

He took a deep breath, getting out of the car and opening the rear hatch. Inside was a sizable stack of poster boards and a large square box wrapped and tied in orange blossom patterned furoshiki. Haruka picked the box up by its knot, tucking the poster boards under his other arm. It had taken him the better part of two days - and a lot of calls with Rin - to prepare them, hedging against his difficulty with articulating his thoughts, choosing the correct words, and getting too self-conscious to speak. Like he had with the whiteboard in the hospital, he filled the entire stack with things he wanted to say to Makoto, things he had been too impatient and too stupid to say properly.

Makoto deserved properly. And even if it terrified Haruka, he was determined to find a way to give it to him. Those little messages showing up on his phone, tiny ripples on the surface of the water as he'd tried to stay hidden beneath it, whispered that there was still a chance, if he could just stuff enough courage in his spine to _take it_.

He made an interesting picture as he walked towards the station with his items, dressed as he would have been for work in pressed white coat, brown pants and apron, blue shoes. A long brown coat and his red scarf were his only nods to the chilly weather, hands bare.

A firefighter cleaning gear inside one of the bays looked up and waved to him, putting down his brush and walking out to meet Haruka. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked. Haruka nodded once, shifting to free a hand and pull a piece of paper from his pocket.

'I have a message for Tachibana Makoto.'

The firefighter read the note, glancing back up at Haruka with slightly-concealed skepticism. "Can't you talk?"

Haruka shrugged, knowing that his _Not to you_ wouldn't be what the other man assumed he meant. His voice would not be wasted on others; today it was only for Makoto.

"Okay. Wait here." The firefighter shook his head, stalking inside to where Tachibana had been moping for the past few days. No surprise, he was still there, defeated slump to his posture and death grip on his phone. "Yo, Tachibana. There's some mute guy outside with a message for you."

 

 

 _Yo, Tachibana_ , was how a lot of the guys addressed him. It wasn't anything derogatory or weird; Makoto usually liked the casual atmosphere around the firehouse. But lately, he just couldn't be his usual happy self. Yes, sure, that might be considered moping, but what else could he do when he didn't understand what happened? When he couldn’t figure out, despite hours of pondering on the same moments over and over again, what he might have done to hurt Haruka enough to cut him straight out of his life.

And he couldn't even bring himself to blame Haruka, either. It wasn't his fault, not really. Makoto should have been honest and upfront. If he wanted something like that from Haruka, he should have told him so. Should have laid his soul bare from the beginning.

Even now, he knew he was a coward. It terrified him, telling Haruka the truth.

So when Yamada walked in and called for him, the words _mute guy_ didn't sink in right away. Makoto looked up, blinked wearily, and was about to get up and see who was looking for him when he realized.

 _Mute_.

 _MUTE_.

Fumbling, he nearly dropped his phone in his haste, nearly kicked out the chair legs from under his clumsy feet. His heart pounded, beating fast and raw against his chest, and when he rounded the corner and saw Haruka standing there, everything else just melted away. It was like the first fresh breath of air after being suffocated.

"H-Haruka..." Makoto felt tentative. What could he even say? What _should_ he say? Should he apologize, even though he didn't know what it was really for? Was it for liking that kiss as much as he had? Was it for liking it at all? Dumbly, words tumbled free despite the catch in his throat. "I'm so happy to see you." He smiled, but only barely. Part of him was afraid of that too. The phrase walking on eggshells never seemed as pertinent. "How-how are you? Is everything okay?"

 

 

Makoto came into view, and everything at the swim club rushed back in a flood, tightening Haruka's throat with guilt, shame, and attraction. Over the shift and bunch of Makoto's half-uniform, Haruka's mind superimposed Makoto bare from the waist up, beautiful and powerful with every move. His mouth went desert-dry as legskins replaced the pants and suspenders. This was exactly why he had written out most of what he wanted to say; Makoto could steal all his words without even trying.

He nodded, happy to see Makoto but unhappy to see signs of poor sleep and raw emotion on him. The guilt-knot tightened and rather than answering, Haruka held out the furoshiki bundle until Makoto took it, asking him with his eyes not to open it yet. That left both his hands free to work the poster boards. He'd numbered them on the back so they would be in order, the first one beginning simply enough with 'Makoto. I've missed you a lot.'

'I have a lot of things to say, please let me get through them.'

'I wrote down what I wanted to say because I am kind of an idiot otherwise.'

'I do things without thinking them through, or when I do use words I put them in the wrong order.'

'I know I'm difficult and hard to understand.'

He showed the poster boards one at a time, watching Makoto's eyes as he read them, searching Makoto's face for understanding. The longer he held the proverbial floor, the more Haruka felt the inevitable heat start to crawl up his face, his fingers to curl on the edge of the poster boards with that desire to shut down or run away or just declare it all too much effort and ragequit in his detached, silent way. When he felt his old habits start to flare, he swallowed around the embarrassment in his throat, squared his shoulders, and kept going despite the discomfort. _For Makoto. Makoto deserves things done properly._

'I'm sorry for how I acted. For running away.'

'I did something impulsive, which is a bad habit of mine.'

'I was scared, because I felt I'd spoiled everything between us, and I regretted it.'

'Not what I did, but that I ruined something so perfect between us by being selfish.'

'I took what I wanted in the moment.'

'That was wrong, and I am sorry.'

'I've never had someone that matters to me the way you do.'

'A person just for me.'

Haruka took a fortifying breath and glanced up and down between Makoto and the wrapped bundle in Makoto's hands, an encouraging nod signifying 'open it'. The furoshiki parted into a cake box, and inside was a new creation, a chocolate sponge cake in the style of Christmas cake but with Haruka's own customizations: sliced rather than whole strawberries decorating the top, rich powdered-sugar fudge frosting rather than whipped cream, and the two kanji for Makoto's name written in strawberry-sauce calligraphy in the middle next to a familiar orange tree in white chocolate.

'My name is Nanase Haruka. Since my first name is a girl's, I thought it would be okay to make you chocolate for Valentine's Day.'

'But I am impatient and I couldn't wait until then.'

'When your heart is completely full, sometimes you have to put your feelings in your own voice without hesitating.'

Haruka dropped the last poster board, looking up at Makoto nervously. In spite of all of this, Makoto could still reject him, it's a very real possibility after how he acted at the swim club. But Haruka won't hold back his true feelings any longer.

"I love you, Tachibana Makoto." Smoke inhalation roughened the edges of his low voice, maybe permanently, but Haruka found he didn’t care nearly as much as he thought he would. Not when he finally took that tentative step forward and offered that connection to Makoto. “If my life had to be set on fire to meet you, you're worth the burns.” Blue eyes, honest and clear, posed the question in hopeful harmony with the spoken words. “Will you accept my feelings?"

 

 

When Haruka didn't immediately say anything in response, just nodded, Makoto felt in his core that something was horribly wrong. Why would Haruka come all the way down here to rub fresh salt into the wound, though? Unless Makoto had truly done something unforgivable, and that was what he was here to say. But that didn't at all explain the gift, which Makoto frowned at but accepted without a word. He barely looked at it; his eyes were glued to Haruka.

The way he was dressed reminded him a little of how he'd seen Haruka at the café. Why was he wearing an apron under his coat? Makoto swallowed down all his insecurities, all the questions that tried to tear out of his throat, holding the furoshiki bundle like it was made of blown-spun glass.

Then, Haruka started to shift the boards under his arm, and Makoto's stomach dropped.  
  
_Makoto. I've missed you a lot._

Haruka must have expected the reaction he got, because when Makoto stepped forward, one hand abandoning his gift to reach for Haruka, words heavy on his tongue, Haruka held up his second sign: _I have a lot of things to say, please let me get through them._

That... That was so like Haruka, wasn't it? So Makoto nodded, settling in for however long this would take. Haruka couldn't possibly know how much he treasured his words, even if they were written down instead of spoken. That almost made them even more special, because it meant Haruka had spent a lot of time thinking them through. Like he'd first assumed when they were in the hospital, Haruka only said the things he meant and not a word extra.

As the boards were revealed, Makoto's chest kept tightening, his stomach somersaulting, the package in his hands suddenly heavy with meaning. _I know I'm difficult and hard to understand. I was scared. I am sorry. I've never had someone that matters to me the way you do_.

Haruka continued to show new messages, and it got harder and harder not to respond to them verbally. Makoto hadn't at all thought the kiss was selfish or that Haruka had spoiled anything, but Haruka had asked him to wait because he had a lot to say, and so he would. Despite the desperate need to hold him or just take his hands and tell him everything would be all right, that it was okay, that _they_ were okay, Makoto stood still and quiet. Even when a few of the other firefighters came in. Even when Rei asked _what's going on?_ and the others shushed him. There was no embarrassment in this for Makoto; he only wanted to hear everything Haruka had to say.

 _A person just for me_.

The words burned through the space between them and straight into Makoto's soul. Somehow, the man who didn't know how to put words in the right order or simply chose not to speak them at all had conveyed the exact crux of what Makoto wanted too. Like Haruka had reached into his heart and pulled the words free.

Looking down at the furoshiki wrapped gift, Makoto gingerly untied the knot at the top when told to. Inside was just a box, but the scent of it hit him first and he knew before he peeked inside what it was. Still, seeing it up close, the detail work, the amount of chocolate, the time this must have taken, the _care_ , the fact that Haruka had made this not in the café's kitchen but at home probably, in a much smaller kitchen, for him. Only for him.  
  
_My name is Nanase Haruka. Since my first name is a girl's, I thought it would be okay to make you chocolate for Valentine's Day. But I am impatient and I couldn't wait until then_.

Around them, many of the firefighters laughed. Makoto didn't hear them. All he heard was Haruka, his actual voice reaching out through its now roughened tone, asking for permission to love him, to be accepted, Haruka's face burning red from embarrassment and yet he pushed through and made it to the end. For a guy like Haruka, who was so worried that his words would fail him, it was very brave to put himself out there like that. Brave and beautiful.

When it was clear that Haruka was done, Makoto moved aside to set the cake down, loosely wrapping it back up in the furoshiki, realizing only belatedly that the pattern on the cloth was made of orange blossoms. He returned to Haruka, eyes softened, throat tight.

"I would have accepted your feelings three days ago," Makoto said, his voice a little stern, but that would be the only reprimand he could give Haruka. For once, _he_ was the one without words. There was so much he wanted to say and yet he knew no perfect order in which to speak these things. So he took a page from Haruka's book and put words into action: stepping close, he took Haruka's hands, squeezing them.

For a while, that's all he could do. Then suddenly, the words came to him.

"I'll accept them now, under one condition." He drew even closer, bending down to whisper it like a secret between them. "You never again apologize for being who you are." Makoto squeezed his hands again, and though his ears were burning and the sensation was making its rounds to the rest of his face too, he wanted to be as brave as Haruka had been. "I don't find you difficult or hard to understand. You're not an idiot. That kiss wasn't selfish, because I wanted it too." He swallowed. All eyes were on them and though he knew that, he also didn't care. He wanted Haruka. And after such a gesture, it was only fair to be completely honest. "I love Haruka. All of Haruka," he finished, sincerely.

 

 

Biting his lip and looking down in a meek nod, Haruka accepted the chastisement without complaint; he deserved it and a great deal more for holing up and not contacting Makoto at all. The words Makoto spoke trembled on the edge of rejection regardless of the tenderness in his green eyes; however, Haruka felt elated that he'd accomplished it, plucking at the front of his whites to still the frantic hummingbird-wings of his heartbeat. Somehow, he managed to say the deepest things in his heart without the water or Rin here to drive him. No, that wasn't exactly right, in the ways that mattered they had always been with him through this metaphorical race, encouraging him and guiding him until he could touch the wall, break the surface, and...

And take the hand Makoto extended to him, ready to pull him from the pool. He frowned as the mental image wavered and went back to his view the ground, wondering if this was another of those other-life moments. Still, it put a surge of wishful bubbles tiptoeing up his spine. If Makoto's hand awaited Haruka at the end of every milestone big and small, he thought he could do anything, go anywhere, conquer it all.

Warm hands surrounded Haruka's and he blinked with owlish hope up at Makoto, holding his breath the longer Makoto held his hands. _I wanted it too._ Pure joy flooded through him and he breathed out in relief.  
_  
I love Haruka. All of Haruka._

"Makoto..." Haruka loved saying Makoto's name, had fallen in love with the silent feel of it on his lips in the hospital, eager to put it in his own voice. "You're the person just for me," Haruka whispered with soft reverence, taking one of his hands from Makoto's and reaching up to trace the outline of Makoto's lips. _In this life, in any others, it's always you._ The rest of the people there had all but disappeared for him, their breathing and voices only so much white noise. Makoto loved him; at that moment, nothing else mattered, nothing else held significance. Haruka shifted his hand, thumb making lazy back and forth caresses of Makoto's plush lower lip. Blue eyes shimmered, their gaze firmly fixed on Makoto's, seeing only him. "Can I kiss you now?" he asked, smoky voice dipping lower than before.

 

 

It should have been endlessly embarrassing. The entire team of firefighters on staff were standing there, watching the two of them, listening. They'd probably never seen anything like this outside of overdramatic manga, and they'd probably never thought they'd see it at the station of all places, and with two guys no less. It should have been mortifying. Makoto should have tugged Haruka to a more private place so they could discuss this without prying eyes or the potential of losing his job over his newfound sexuality.

But in the end, Makoto wasn't embarrassed or humiliated at all. He felt incredibly full of love. To have Haruka's hands in his was a gift that he wouldn't take lightly. To have Haruka ask permission to kiss him was an endearing blessing.

Reaching up, Makoto slid his fingers over Haruka's cheek. His touch wasn't tentative anymore; it was almost greedy. He'd longed for this, imagined what Haruka's skin might feel like, and now to touch it... He couldn't hold back. His roughened fingertips traced their way to the base of Haruka's skull. Mesmerized by the beauty in Haruka's eyes, Makoto leaned down, pulling Haruka up in the same breath.

No verbal answer was necessary. Not when they both obviously wanted the same thing.

Makoto's free hand found the cinch of Haruka's waist, and he tipped his face to deepen the kiss, forgetting completely where they were and that they should probably keep things chaste for the sake of his career. And his reputation.

  

 

Their first kiss had been potent, aggressive, hormonal and visceral. This was tender, achingly so and full of feelings, Makoto's lips covering his with welcome, his fingers skimming against a cheek before threading through Haruka's hair. Haruka's right hand sneaked up the landscape of Makoto's chest to press over his heart, his left anchoring on the back of Makoto's neck for balance, just under his fluffy hair. Haruka tipped his head to one side and lowered his jaw, granting Makoto easier entrance to his mouth, his tongue tracing against the bottom lip he adored.

His hand gripped tighter and Haruka tugged Makoto just a bit farther down, the height difference and standing on tiptoe making him a bit wobbly but there was no way he would end the kiss for that. Besides, if Makoto had gone into a burning building for him, surely he would never let him fall during a kiss. The hand tucked at his waist was strong, supportive, ready to catch him, ready to pull him along, ready to go anywhere they might go, together.

 

 

Haruka's tongue against his lips chilled Makoto in the kind of way that made him a little crazy. He wanted to get his hands all over Haruka, learn every nuance of his body, swim his fingers under his clothes and gingerly pry them off so he could attack naked skin with his tongue and teeth and lips, to learn his taste and texture. The desire for Haruka was intense, so much that it nearly scared Makoto. He'd never felt like this before. He'd dated, sure, but no one had sparked this level of affection in him, this level of _need_. He'd never wanted to pull clothes off and put his mouth in places he wouldn't have been able to say aloud.

That was about the point that realization of where, exactly, they were dawned on him. There were a few cheers and whistles for the kiss as Makoto pulled back with a soft noise of discontent. Why did Haruka show up at his _work_ to do this of all places? And yet, he couldn't be angry or upset. Haruka had done this. For him.

"I should, ah, take my lunch break," Makoto said, his voice a throaty sort of rumble as he laughed.

"Your _lunch break_ ," one of the other firefighters teased. "Suuure."

Makoto waved them away. "Don't you all have work to get to?" he asked, but there was no venom in it. His fingers curled into Haruka's as he placed his attention on his...his boyfriend? Lover? What were they now? He desperately wanted to find out. "Will you walk me home so I can put this beautiful cake somewhere safe?" He'd sooner trust his siblings than the other firefighters around something like that.

 

 

"I can do better than that." The high color on Haruka's cheeks was the only outward hint of his emotions as he spoke almost in an undertone, the rest sealed behind the dispassionate public exterior. "That's my car," he nodded towards the Vitz, "I'll drive you." He left unsaid that the path to Makoto's house from where he could park on the hill led through Haruka's house. That was ammunition that the rest of the firehouse didn't need. "Pack it up and we'll go."

Blue eyes swept over the gathered firefighters and stopped on Rei, sharpening. "You," he said. "Come with us. There are other things that should be left here that you can carry in." With Makoto's hand back in his, Haruka edged just between him and the rest of his coworkers, as if he could shield or protect him from even the good-natured jibes. "Isn't it customary to applaud if you enjoyed the show?" he asked straight-faced, tugging Makoto with him towards the car, a smattering of applause behind them. He's been talking too much with Rin, Haruka decided, some of his snap has rubbed off on him.

Haruka unlocked the back, opening the hatch and promptly handing Makoto glass baking pans of pork ravioli stacked three high and tied up in heavy furoshiki. He turned to the tall, gangly firefighter, loading him down as well with two large boxes of mini cupcakes in blue furoshiki. "Encourage them to keep quiet," Haruka added, leaving any of the social niceties and introductions to Makoto.

 

 

Rei looked completely bewildered (he was one of the only ones who'd looked away when they kissed), and jumped a bit when Haruka spoke directly to him, but he nevertheless followed like a good soldier, all too eager to do something with his hands besides wring them anxiously or push up his glasses again.

At the car, Makoto's eyes widened. "Haruka...you..." He laughed, squeezing Haruka's hand again. "You're bribing them? That's very devious, don't you think?" But the way Makoto said it, it was clear he thought it was just the thing. After all, it was starting to sink in what they'd done, _where_ they done it, and though Makoto would never apologize for the public show, it might not be the smartest move for him career-wise. Still, he had a feeling if he lost his job over something that beautiful, then it simply wasn't the right job for him in the end.

Weighed down with his load, Makoto somehow made it look easy as he gave Haruka a smile and then disappeared back into the station, where there was an instant swell of noise. Every single firefighter wanted to ask him about Haruka or congratulate him or make light jokes at the shoujo situation, but the second they saw the food and Makoto told them where it had come from, they hounded him for a different reason altogether. Apparently, Haruka had been wise to think ahead; bribing firemen with food did the trick.

"You're the chef Makoto-senpai rescued from the café, aren't you?" Rei asked, weighed down with his own bundle but staring at Haruka a little sheepishly. "Ah, sorry! I won't keep you. Thank you for the food!" Rei started to bow, then realized he had cupcakes in his arms, and wound up just nodding his head instead before he left to join Makoto.

A few minutes later, Makoto appeared again, this time carrying the cake box and poster boards with him back to Haruka's car. "You went through a lot of trouble for me," he said, very, very quietly, face pink but expression sincere. "The beautiful cake, those cards, the food, that...that kiss..." After tucking the cake into a place it would be safe in the car for the short ride, Makoto offered Haruka the boards and shut the back door for him. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but...right there, in front of the station wasn't the place for it, so instead he smiled. "I will have to return the favor. Somehow."

 

 

Haruka didn't respond to the question of bribery, because that was exactly what it was. Good food buys silence, and should it not buy enough, Haruka wasn't above involving Kawamura-san as her late husband had donated the land for the current fire station. When it came to Makoto, Haruka thought there was no limit to how devious he could be.

He nodded to Rei's question, it wasn't a secret. In many ways that had nothing to do with fire, Makoto saved him that night. "Would you," Haruka found his voice engaging on its own, "look after him here, as much as a kouhai can? He's very important to me." That should go without saying after everything today, but something new in Haruka _liked_ saying it.

Haruka leaned one hip against the car, content to wait for Makoto's return. He looked so handsome walking out of the station, hair burnished bronze in the sunlight, broad shoulders leading the way. "It isn't trouble for me when it's something I want to do," Haruka countered. The kiss, especially, had been no trouble, and even the hours of work seemed small if they brought a smile to Makoto's face. "There's nothing to return, you more than deserved all of this from me." He felt his cheeks heating and went to open the driver's door on the right hand side.

Once Makoto got in and buckled his seat belt, Haruka started the car, sliding it into first with his left hand. "You were first to indulge and spoil me, even when you didn't know my name or what a pain I really am." He coasted into second and then third, self-deprecating smile just brushing the edge of his mouth. "Please let me be the one to spoil and take care of you, Makoto." They passed through the main part of downtown Iwatobi quickly, heading for the road along the coast.

 

 

The smile that lingered at the periphery of Haruka's expression sent a jolt of excitement through Makoto despite himself. He had no idea if that was some kind of innuendo or just Haruka's way of saying things without worry, but it brought even more color to his face. He didn't think he'd mind being spoiled, if it was by Haruka.

Still, he laughed, covering his face a bit. "I'm glad you have your voice back, but please don't say things so straightforwardly." Even if Makoto liked the level of intimacy it promised, he would keep that a secret for now.

Once they made it to the coast, Makoto looked aside, towards the sea. The glint of it shown through the window, the afternoon light basking Haruka in its warm glow, and it was like a man who had thirsted finally getting a cold drink of water. The sight nearly took his breath away. He tried his best not to stare, then realized maybe he was free to do so and looked again. Haruka’s ocean-blue eyes were focused on the road, his dark hair falling over his face in such a way that it became difficult for Makoto not to tenderly sweep the fringe aside.

It was quiet between them, a comfortable silence, as Haruka drove them up the hill and parked the car. Makoto was feeling jittery, mostly because it was becoming a lot of trouble to keep his hands to himself while they were alone, and now Haruka had parked behind his own house, so was he sort of thinking the same thing? All Makoto really wanted was to be near him, for however long that was allowed, but there were parts of him that screamed to take another kiss. And another. And another...

As he opened the door, a specific scent hit him and he paused there beside the car, looking towards Haruka's home. "Were you...cooking?" he asked. "It smells like that curry you made on special at the café." He remembered it vividly. Smelling that here, now, took him back, and he couldn't wait. In the shadow of the trees and Haruka's car door, Makoto nudged him against the side of the car and sought out his mouth with a breathless noise, hands on his waist as if he was still afraid this was all a dream and Haruka might disappear at any moment. Life was just so tenuous and precious; Makoto needed to remind himself that Haruka was indeed here, real, tangible.

 

 

Haruka turned off the car, remembering to set the parking brake, and got out. Makoto's nervous tension was contagious, Haruka's skin feeling too small and the air inside the tiny Vitz nearly too thick to breathe.  Haruka was familiar with the sensation of attraction, but confessing to Makoto had added another component to it, one which was new and heady. Attraction spun and blended with emotion in a sinuous dance, swirling inside Haruka's head and pulsing everywhere he possessed blood. He wanted and he needed, he craved and he hungered...not so much to take as to give. To, as he had said, spoil Makoto. Physical affection, so tedious in past thoughts and experiences, seemed to leap from him, eagerly seeking Makoto.

He stared for a moment, caught up in the gravity of Tachibana Makoto, until he realized there was a question attached to that collection of syllables formed by Makoto's lips. "I was," Haruka replied belatedly. "It's the same, but I add-..."

Greedy, Makoto swallowed Haruka's words, his breath, and very nearly his soul. The car held firm against his back, his hips rucked slightly higher than normal standing, his weight balanced on the tips of his toes again and the support of an excited, masculine body pinning him in place. Makoto kissed and Haruka kissed back, not having the leverage he did in the pool but eagerly rolling the dice to play the game, too. His tongue sashayed playfully against Makoto's lips, tickling his mouth open. "Makoto..." The name was a throaty prayer as Haruka's libido flared and his hips squirmed restlessly against Makoto.

 

 

It was the first time in Makoto's life that he'd felt this level of attraction and desire. He had dated, he'd kissed, but nothing had ever lit his skin on fire like this. It felt like Haruka had the key to his libido and had just turned the ignition. His confession may have been the catalyst, but this desire had been building such Makoto first saw him, just a nameless, talented figure in the back of the café.

This time, Haruka's tongue worked his mouth open, and Makoto let him in, bending further with a low noise of pleasure as he sucked Haruka's tongue between his lips and into the wet heat of his mouth. He hadn't intended to take things so quickly, but just then, he wasn't sure what else to do. His mouth was a magnet for Haruka's, his hands a magnet for Haruka's waist, his body pulsing to the beat of Haruka's heart. It was the first time he'd ever wanted to take things quickly, because it seemed too chaotic to move slowly any longer, and what if he never got another chance? What if this was the last time he smelled that curry or tasted Haruka's mouth or felt the silk of his hair pass through his fingers as he brushed it aside?

For a while, Makoto just let it happen, pressing Haruka against his car and holding him close. Their tongues met, electricity sang through his body, and his fingers clenched around Haruka's waist, at the back of his neck. He pressed closer still, until his hips were flush to Haruka's. The height difference was becoming a bit of a problem, but Makoto would take the twinge in his spine if it meant he could keep sucking Haruka's mouth against his own for a while longer. Forever, maybe.

 

 

Haruka's hands fisted in Makoto's shirt, a tiny whine in the back of his throat as Makoto shifted the balance with suction, capturing his tongue in delicious, delicious heat. His tongue thrust against Makoto's, liking the domination but wanting to take it back just as much. It...was sharing, wasn't it? Not competing like Rin and Yamazaki, but sharing?

Haruka leaned his head back into the cradle of Makoto's hand, trusting him without reserve as his needy hands pulled Makoto deeper down by his shirt, deeper into kissing nirvana. He fed off the desperation singing in Makoto's touches, fed it back to him in urgent kisses, bold touches. He wanted to tug that shirt out from Makoto's pants and throw it off, leaving all of his back free to be explored. He wanted Makoto's broad hands untying his apron and pushing those pants down his hips and...and...

A faint kiss of breeze tickled Haruka's ears, reminding him that they were still outside. While the rear drive was only used by the few neighbors who owned cars, it remained a walking path up and down to the shrine and one of the routes the elderly residents took on their daily constitutionals. The idea of one of them finding Sanada Mariko's grandson intimately pressed against a car by a male firefighter...he could never look at her picture in the altar again. "Makoto..." Arousal further roughened his voice, and the name was a tender growl. "Let's go inside."

 

 

With the kiss broke, Makoto's breath labored against Haruka's open, wet mouth. For a moment, as his brain worked to catch up to the words Haruka spoke, he didn't understand why they'd stopped. His fingers unconsciously tightened against Haruka's waist, as if to beg him not to run off again, even though he knew better by now. Then, when the words reached him finally, Makoto knew exactly why they'd stopped.

Jolting back, his face broke out in a rash-like blush. "A-ah, right, yes! I'll get the---cake."

That sound. Haruka's voice just then. It wasn't Makoto's imagination, the rough-raw possessive growl of arousal that was in it. Makoto may have never had anyone sound like that towards him, but he understood its meaning without Haruka saying another word: _Let's go inside_ may as well have been _Take me inside so we can continue to kiss in private_.

He hurriedly picked up the cake, somehow remembering it through the cloud of arousal, and followed Haruka around the back of the house, unable to look in his eyes but stealing glances at his body as he led the way nonetheless and feeling somewhat ashamed of it even as it struck him how sexy Haruka looked in that coat and apron, those nice shoes. Which led to Makoto remembering what he looked like without clothes, or at least, without most of his clothes, damp with water, drizzles of it catching in every shape of muscle that drew down his torso and chest.

Once inside, Makoto tried not to trip getting his shoes off, making his way through the hallway and to the kitchen to put the cake in the refrigerator. All the while, he felt Haruka's eyes on him in turn - when he held the cake in one hand, bent to find a suitable shelf - so when he turned and found Haruka's stare, he met it head on. In those ocean blue eyes, he lost himself, voluntarily drowning in their depths.

"....Haruka's voice is sexy."

The words blurted, and as out of character as they felt to say aloud, they were also undoubtedly true. The first thing Makoto had heard Haruka say was his name, so now to hear all these other things, even the smallest of whines like when they kissed, felt like a gift. Like every word that fell beyond his lips was a blessing for Makoto to worship.

For once, Makoto didn't get flustered or apologize. He meant it. And he didn't want to take it back, embarrassing as these things might be to say to someone else.

 

 

Haruka leaned in the doorway between living room and kitchen, watching Makoto find space in the refrigerator for the cake and letting his eyes drink in the sight. All his thoughts centered on one thing alone: _I love Makoto and Makoto loves me_. The simplest, most mundane action - putting something away - had him bubbling with need and adoration, dizzy and short of breath with the intensity.

Makoto's sudden admission took Haruka off-guard. His eyes, huge with surprise, seemed to sparkle as one self-conscious hand clutched his throat. "You..." he began, but to accuse Makoto of dishonesty or flattery when the truth shone in his painfully honest eyes was impossible. Makoto truly believed what he said, and that brought heat to the tops of Haruka's ears and cheeks. "It's not the same as before," Haruka admitted, thumb stroking back and forth over his Adam's apple as if he could coax his original voice out by touch, "and I'm a little embarrassed by it. Once it stopped hurting to talk, I still didn't want you to hear because it sounded like a different person to me." His chin dropped and Haruka looked off to one side, a hint of a pout curling his bottom lip. "But, if you like it...then I don't mind as much if you hear me."

Still looking away, Haruka traced a small arc against the floor with the toe of his slipper. "How long do I get to keep you? Today," he belatedly added for clarification.

 

 

"It's not the roughness of the tone or the slight growl in it," Makoto clarified. "It's your voice. So it's sexy. Especially when you say my name." The honesty poured out of him, so he was glad that Haruka asked something else to break the tension, although he still wasn't sure what that meant, if _how long do I get to keep you today_ meant more than just the obvious. Makoto was not good at flirting or teasing, he'd never really had practice at it to this extent, but he thought for Haruka, he'd definitely like to try harder.

"I'm on lunch for an hour," he said. Unlike with most businesses in Japan, the firefighters staggered their lunches in groups so that the station was never completely empty in case of emergency. Makoto often opted for the later lunch, since he lived nearby and it would be convenient to go home at any time for him, whereas most of the others commuted some distance.

Looking over Haruka, Makoto decided he could just stare at him forever and never tire of it. He stepped forward and brushed his fingers through Haruka's hair.

"You have me for a full hour now, and then as much as you’ll have me later."

 

 

"An hour," Haruka repeated, weighing the words and leaning into Makoto's touch. The feather-light stroke of Makoto's fingers through his hair had his heart doing the hop-skip rhythm again. "Then you have a very important choice to make." Haruka captured Makoto's hand with his own, pulling it down to rest against his cheek. "Do you want food first or kissing first?" He nuzzled his cheek against Makoto's hand, finding himself enthralled with the sensation of callused palm against his skin. "It's green curry with saba," Haruka heard himself say, unable to take his eyes from Makoto.

The shrill default ringtone of Haruka's phone pierced their kitchen accord and Haruka's dark eyebrows drew sharply down as he reached into his pocket and shut the phone off. "Rin can wait," he muttered under his breath, thoroughly annoyed. He stepped closer to Makoto, sliding his arms around his waist and hooking his thumbs in the suspenders. In this proximity, Haruka could tuck his head under Makoto's chin, surround himself with the heat of Makoto's larger body. "...I practiced saying it a lot, your name. Even before I knew I loved you, I wanted to say your name out loud."

 

 

Immediately, Makoto wrapped his arms around Haruka's body, cradling him close. His hair smelled good up close. Fresh. Like water. Bowing his own head a bit, he let the softness of it brush against his skin, inhaled the scent, closed his eyes. It made him wish he wasn't on shift until tonight, but maybe he was lucky it wasn't overnight at least. He wasn't sure he could wait that long to see Haruka again. Three days had been enough of an eternity.

"I've never felt like this before," Makoto admitted, cheeks burning. "I'm afraid if I start kissing you again now, I won't be able to stop myself and go back to work after." And that was the honest truth. In fact, he was afraid he might want more than kissing if they started up again.

How in the world was he going to make through his shift at all after this?

"And you did go through all the trouble of making lunch, presumably for us to share?" He pulled back just enough to see if his guess was correct, smiling down at Haruka.

 

 

"Neither have I." Haruka's voice was muffled against Makoto's chest, his thumbs tugging on Makoto's suspenders with a restless energy. "I don't think I'd let you stop for work, I'm very selfish that way. I want to be with Makoto all the time." As he had on the genkan at the new year, Haruka butted the top of his head against Makoto's chin, communicating affection, self-consciousness and frustration all at once. "I want Makoto, but not just for an hour." _Not just selfish but greedy,_ his tone said.

Haruka glanced up through his eyelashes, thin wisps of blue under feathery black. Makoto's smile, _beautiful_ smile, knotted any words in his throat and he looked back down sharply, ignoring the warmth in his face. He wanted to spoil Makoto with food, and Rin insisted a home-cooked meal was completely romantic.

"It's no trouble if it's for Makoto," he managed to get out, not quite ready to admit that the café served green curry solely because Haruka had felt certain it was something Tachibana would like. "I can heat everything up in just a few minutes. The rice is already done, it just needs to be fluffed." Talking about food settled his heartbeat down, it was calming and balancing. "If I'm going to steal you from the firehouse for lunch, I should feed you."

 

 

 _I want Makoto, but not just for an hour_ played on instant loop in Makoto's head. He felt the same, honestly, that an hour wouldn't be near enough for the two of them. What he wanted was an entire evening. Dinner, tea and dessert, and then...

Makoto swallowed, feeling a little rumble of anxiety tangle through his insides. The things he wanted to do with Haruka were things he'd _never_ done before. Things he probably shouldn't want so soon into their new relationship. Things they should take considerably slower than how Makoto wanted right now. Things he didn’t even completely understand or know how to accomplish. But he'd never felt this way, and something about exploring it all with Haruka seemed all too right despite the newness.

"What can I help you with, Chef Nanase?" Makoto hummed, taking stock of Haruka's blush once again. It made Haruka seem very vulnerable somehow, despite the pouty look on his face and the sharp lines that drew him. Makoto knew he would have to take great care with this man.

 

 

Haruka drew a deep breath, nudging Makoto with his head again, most of the self-consciousness gone and affection the primary content. "Turn on the kotatsu and I'll set out dishes for the table." Something domestic and homey surged in his chest at the idea of sharing meals, washing dishes side by side, and adjourning upstairs to share the bed that felt too big for him alone. There were things he needed to learn about that last thought, sex education and his own sexual experiences had been male-female. How exactly did two men have sex? Haruka had never thought about it, especially not in detail. He wasn’t particularly shy or hesitant about researching, though unlike recipes he didn't think he'd find what he sought on Pinterest.

After stacking the dishes, teacups, spoons and forks for Makoto, Haruka went to the fridge and took out the curry, taking a brief moment to let the appliance's chilled air cool his face. Back into the wok it went, flame on the burner flickering a brilliant blue-orange as he stirred, blending everything anew to reheat it. He'd completed it just before leaving for the firehouse earlier, so it hadn't cooled for very long and worked back to eatable temperature in just a few minutes. Into a clean serving dish it went with a spoon.

He opened the rice cooker, fluffing up the still-hot rice and spooning it into one large serving bowl. This he handed to Makoto when he returned to the kitchen. The tea server was full, the pale green tea in it mild to complement the curry. Haruka filled the teapot, enough for several cups for both of them, and passed it to Makoto, grabbing a towel to hold the curry dish and to set on the table with it.

They had eaten together before, though not alone in Haruka's house and not as...a couple. There would never be another first meal together for them. Haruka mentally rolled his eyes at himself, knowing that thought came straight from Rin's influence; he practically heard it in his sharky voice. Nevertheless, the idea warmed him from chest to toes, sharing another first with Makoto.

He pulled out a knife and quickly chopped some extra chilies that could be added for flavor, sweeping them from the cutting board into a tiny bowl. That and the curry he carried to the kotatsu, kneeling and setting both down. Makoto had already taken a place to the left of Haruka's and Haruka leaned towards him, soft lips brushing Makoto's forehead. "I hope you like it," he said, settling down and sticking his legs under the futon. "I'll serve if you'll pour the tea."

 

 

Makoto was glad to be of use. After all, he was a guest in Haruka's house, and Haruka had made him lunch, baked him a beautiful cake, cooked for the entire station, written all those cards by hand. Every time he thought about what the cards had said and what followed, it felt like a dream, like it was happening to someone else.

After washing his hands and turning on the kotatsu, Makoto plated the low table and took his seat, smiling at the sight of green curry, rice, tea. He was so very lucky to have Haruka in his life, wasn't he?

But if Haruka thought he was getting away with that brief kiss to his forehead, he was mistaken. Makoto reached for him before he could fully pull away, cupping the back of Haruka's neck. "Thank you for the food," he said, whispering the words into Haruka's ear as he pressed his lips close. "And thank you for the cake, and the beautiful things you wrote and said. I feel very fortunate to have you in my life." He pressed a kiss to Haruka's cheek, just shy of his ear, and then clasped his hands together a little belatedly in his thanks for the food. It was more a thanks to Haruka today and to the gods for putting them together.

Normally, lunches like this would go without much talking, but as Makoto poured the tea for them, he couldn't help but fill the silence. He was brimming with things to say.

"Please forgive me if I do or say anything strange. I've had a few relationships, but...to be honest, no one has ever made me feel the way you do, and at first, I thought maybe that was wrong because we were both men, but if we both feel like that, then I don't see a problem." His face reddened, and despite the fact that Haruka probably needed both hands to serve the food, Makoto reached for one of them and slid his fingers between Haruka's. "I don't want to ruin this, so I hope you'll have patience with me."

 

 

Makoto's fingers on the back of his neck made Haruka shiver, speech impossible to form. He believed he made some sort of shrug or gesture that accepted Makoto's words, hoped the mental impulses of 'smile!' had made it from his brain to his facial muscles in the correct expression and not something garish. He had been too overwhelmed before with 'Makoto loves me' and kisses and scraping joy out of ruin to fully realize it, but in this moment of quiet and gentle with less stimuli, a simple touch to his neck had him trembling. This...warranted further investigation in that nebulous 'later' Makoto promised, Haruka thought, patting his hands together in ritual thanks.

Not for the first time since they had met, Haruka just watched Makoto and wondered if he was for real. This open, sincere, kind, beautiful person sat before him, asking for _Haruka's_ forgiveness, _Haruka's_ patience, his hand twining to hold Haruka's as if _Makoto_ needed reassurance. "Stupid Makoto," Haruka said, his throaty voice rich with adoration, "do you think _I_ do stuff like this normally? I'm not the sort of person most people even want to be friends with, much less anything else. I don't get close to people, I don't deal well with them. There is part of me scared to death that _you're_ going to conclude _I'm_ not worth all the trouble I know I will be."

Just as he had held Makoto's hand in the hospital, Haruka held his now, as if he could will the touch of their skin to transmit understanding between them. "Something about you exists outside any previous rules or habits for me, Tachibana Makoto. I don't get all of it yet but I'm not going to run away from it again. Or from you," Haruka added, bringing their joined hands up so he could lay a kiss on each of Makoto's knuckles. "You are part of my life now."

For a long moment, Haruka simply watched Makoto in silence, drinking in and savoring his presence here, in his home and in his space. "If you'll hold the bowl with your other hand, I can get some lunch plated for us." Working together, _sharing_ , that's what it meant to have Makoto with him. "Are you coordinated enough to eat left-handed?" Haruka asked as he finished, straight-faced but with a small teasing sparkle in his eyes.

 

 

Makoto's heart was full to the brim. It still shocked him, hearing so much out of Haruka's mouth after going so long in silence, but he didn't dwell on the why, just concentrated on the rhythm of Haruka's voice, its vibrations through the air, the gravely sound to it that was no doubt from the damage to his throat. How lucky, to have met someone like this from such a tragedy, from what could have been much, much worse.

With a laugh, Makoto reached with his left hand for the bowl of rice, helping Haruka plate everything. Working as a team like this wasn't new to Makoto - he excelled in such things - but it was still a little awkward to just use his left hand to move things. And yet, he didn't pull his fingers free. Makoto wasn't ready to let go of Haruka's hand just yet. Maybe not ever.

"I'll do my best. If I spill anything, I promise to clean it up."

It was strange, but Makoto realized this was their first date. It made him a little self-conscious to be sitting there in half-uniform like that while Haruka looked so beautiful, but he didn't let it get to him. It was just another thing he'd have to make up for on their second date. And third. And so on. Knowing there would be many more to come just made his time with Haruka, brief as it was for now, that much better.

To Makoto's credit, he did a better than average job of eating left-handed. It wasn't his finest moment, but it was worth it just to keep Haruka's hand in his. He only let it go after they were both done and it was time to clean up. The lunch had passed in relative quiet, but Makoto enjoyed that. Haruka didn't have to speak, and Makoto was glad he understood that.

"I know you aren't as fond of sweets as me, but you'll have a little cake with me before I go, won't you?" he asked, taking the dishes to the sink.

 

 

"If you want," Haruka agreed, filling the sink to wash the dishes and pushing up the sleeves of his coat. "Since it's a new recipe, I should try it for quality control. This won't take long," he added, nodding at the dishes. "Would you cover the curry and put it in the fridge? There's foil in the drawer next to the stove." He set to efficiently washing and drying the few dishes and utensils they'd used, and left the water in the sink to wash the dessert plates later.

Housekeeping finished, he pulled the refrigerator open and took out the furoshiki-wrapped cake, carrying it, a knife, a cake server, and two sets of plates and forks back to the kotatsu. It was too pretty to cut in the kitchen. "Do you want whipped cream with yours? I made some but it doesn't travel from home well." When Makoto nodded, he went back in the kitchen to fetch the pastry bag.

Long fingers opened the silk and the box, knife making a neat cut through the chocolate. The chocolate filling between the sponge cake layers also had sliced strawberries in it, red and beautiful. Haruka dished up the piece elegantly, making a small mound of whipped cream on either side and sliding it towards Makoto. The piece he took for himself was significantly smaller, not more than a sliver, with only a tiny dollop of cream dressing it. "It's so much easier to make it pretty for people who love sweets," Haruka commented, dropping back to his knees to try his Makoto-creation.

The sponge cake was airy yet melty, cocoa adding a density of flavor that even his palate could appreciate. The strawberries were Haruka's favorite part, but he could taste the difference the powdered sugar made in the frosting. It still harmonized but gave a deeper finish than the whipped cream of traditional Christmas cake. It...was _good_ , he admitted; Makoto made for creative inspiration.

But by far the best part of this cake was the privilege of watching Makoto eat it, cherishing each bite he took, tasting his happiness. Realizing that making him happy...made Haruka happy. He absently forked a bit more of the cake, cat-content as he licked it off the fork.

 

 

"It's amazing," Makoto practically purred. Too beautiful to eat is what he'd have said if he didn't already know Haruka made it with the intention of having Makoto enjoy it. That sort of thing made him all too willing to take the first bite and let it melt into his mouth. He'd had delicious Christmas cakes before, things from bakeries all decked out, but this. This was better than anything he’d ever tasted. Most likely because Haruka's hands had created it just for him.

Half of his slice was gone in a matter of seconds, the extra whipped cream too. "Haruka, when the café re-opens, you should make this again. I would buy an entire one just for my family." Ren and Ran would devour it! They were even bigger chocoholics than he was at times.

An hour hadn't passed yet, so Makoto pressed his luck, reaching for Haruka's hand again.

"You're very talented, you know."

 

 

"You're in luck, Kawamura-san wants to commemorate the opening with Christmas cakes." Haruka idly traced the tines of his fork in his uneaten frosting. "This was a bit of an experiment, I had the idea for a chocolate variation...well, the night you saved me. I was looking up recipes and I fell asleep in the office." He shook his head, clearly the universe had something in mind when he went Pinterest-diving that night. They would have met eventually, but Haruka didn't know if things would have turned out the same, and he refused to give up now for a what-if. "I'll make you one for your family." He wasn't sure how that first introduction would go, charm wasn't his forte, but cake smoothed a lot of paths.

Haruka squeezed Makoto's hand in welcome, his fingers happy to lace with his. "I'm trained and inspired. That masquerades as talent a lot." He reached his fork towards Makoto’s plate, cutting a bite and offering it to Makoto with a silent _say ahh!_ in his eyes. "You inspire me."

 

 

Makoto laughed brightly when Haruka offered him a bite off his fork. It was... _adorable_. He remembered dating a nice girl in high school who had liked feeding him chocolate, but he'd always felt too embarrassed by her actions. Here and now, alone with Haruka, it was more endearing than annoying. Especially when coupled with such praise. As if he could really be the inspiration for something so grand.

Leaning forward, eyes glittering, Makoto took the bite gently. It was very...intimate, wasn't it? Sharing Haruka's fork. Pressing his tongue along the places where Haruka's had just been. Teeth scraping the places Haruka's had. Lips melting against the warmth Haruka left behind.

"Well, if I inspired this, I can't wait to see what else you'll create for me." He winked, teasing, even though he of course would never say no to, for example, doing some taste testing of whatever sweets Haruka created. "Although I may need to increase my weekly workouts if you feed me your portions too." Makoto swiped his own fork over Haruka's extra whipped cream and offered it to him in turn.

He happened to see the time on a clock behind Haruka then, but managed to keep his attention on Haruka's mouth instead and the way it curled around the utensil. He really did have the most beautiful lips.

 

 

There was something almost _sexual_ to watching Makoto enjoy chocolate, chocolate Haruka fed him from his own fork, chocolate Haruka made with his own hands. Like Makoto was consuming _him_ with each bite, each indirect kiss that promised a matching direct one in their 'later'.

"I have a lot in mind. Food is always more special for me when it's for someone. I'll give you my sweets, but you may have to fight me for the saba." Makoto's enjoyment emboldened Haruka and he leaned forward to lick the whipped cream from Makoto's fork. "Do you think," Haruka began, tongue cleaning a stray spot of cream from his upper lip, "we could swim again? That could solve the workout problem." He took the fork in his mouth, sucking it clean. "What do you already do? My..." Haruka hesitated, because 'old team' was the phrase he automatically thought of, but after all of Rin's help (and Yamazaki's, as much as Haruka didn't like to admit it) that seemed inadequate. "My friends," he amended, "got me hooked on weight training in addition to spending all my free time in the pool."

 

 

"I do weight training sometimes, too! We should go together if our schedules permit. Mm, let's see, I also jog when I can, and the other firefighters and I play basketball on lunch every week or so and every season hold a game against the Iwatobi Police Department. But, I would love to swim with you again," Makoto added, as he watched Haruka suck his fork clean. The sight of that sort of thing would make him late to work, so Makoto looked down at the cake, finishing his portion eagerly. "I forgot how deep a workout that sort of thing can be. I'm afraid we might not be able to get the pool all to ourselves for a while again, but would you want to volunteer to help with some of their programs? I do it on occasion. Haven't in a year or so due to my hours, but I'm sure I could work something out when I'm off."

Glancing once more at the clock, Makoto stretched his legs out and sighed. "Speaking of, I.. I should get back." He clasped Haruka's hand tightly in his. "But this...has been such a wonderful treat. I'm so happy you did what you did." He looked down at their joined hands. "It was very brave. I don't know anyone who would have the courage and open heart to do such a thing."

Up on his knees, he leaned over the edge of the kotatsu and sought Haruka's mouth, fingers gently holding the point of his chin.

"I love you, Nanase Haruka, so please don't forget that."

Makoto got to his feet, offering his hand to help Haruka up as well. He'd assist with the cleanup if Haruka let him.

 

 

"Until the Cat reopens, my schedule only consists of 'eat-sleep-swim-Makoto'." A tiny smile quirked at the corners of Haruka's mouth while he drew more little shapes with his fork in the leftover frosting. "Weights don't get you out of breath if you do it right. It may be a while before I can run with you, though." Haruka was never particularly good at running, his elegance in the water didn't translate well to dry land. "I'll go by the swim club and see if something suits me. I don't have Makoto's patience and people skills," he admitted.

Oh, yeah. Time. Makoto only being his for an hour, which was almost up. Well, _shit_. Haruka shifted the kotatsu's futon to rise, his motion interrupted by Makoto's hand enveloping his. _You think such beautiful things of me_ , Haruka thought, returning Makoto's grip, _things I can't quite believe._ He huffed a bit of a sigh but the noise was happy rather than annoyed. "Makoto opens my heart," he said without thinking. "If it's for Makoto, nothing seems too hard to do."

The lips on his tasted of chocolate and strawberries, whipped cream and gentle promises for the future. He wanted to linger and to devour those promises one by one, but Makoto had obligations, obligations Haruka wouldn't obstruct. "I won't, Tachibana Makoto." Haruka stole another kiss, this one peppered with quiet 'I love yous' and feathery assurances, punctuated with the words whispered against Makoto's mouth.

Haruka gathered the cake, handing the plates and forks to Makoto. "Just put them in the sink, I'll wash when I get back. If I drive you, you should get there on time." Cake stored in the fridge, he tugged Makoto down the back hallway for their shoes and then out to the car, not bothering to lock the back door as they hurried out to the car.

After driving in the chaos that was Osaka, Iwatobi posed little challenge, the Vitz accelerating on the coastal road with ease. "I tend to leave the back door unlocked, so if you're pretty sure I'm home you can come in that way. If I don't answer, I'm usually in the bathtub." It felt good, giving Makoto tacit permission to come in whenever he wanted. The afternoon sun was bright on the water, reflecting diamonds across the surface to the waves kissing the shore, almost enough to convince Haruka it was summer and time to swim in the ocean. Almost.

 

 

"In...the bathtub?" Makoto clarified. Right then, he was imagining Haruka naked, laying in the bath at any hour he happened to stop by the house, and it was as tempting as it was worrisome. Haruka surely couldn't sit in the bath all day and night. Could he? Then again, he wore jammers under his clothes to go swim with Makoto, so anything was possible. "Well, I'll call you first. I don't want to barge in."

Tacit permission or not, it might take a while for Makoto to just open the back door and walk in if Haruka didn't answer. After all, he wouldn't want to wear out his welcome.

"Tonight, do you want to...erm..." Makoto found the words strangely difficult, but as they neared the station, he knew he had a limited amount of time to say them. "Do you want to get together? We could watch a movie or something." Anything. No matter how mundane, Makoto would do it if it meant being near Haruka. "As long as it's nothing scary, of course." He laughed a little, but it was the truth. Unless Haruka didn't mind him keeping only one eye peeked open during the movie and had a blanket he could burrow under during the worst parts.

 

 

Haruka gave a blithe shrug, flipping the turn signal with his pinky. "During the months it's too cold to swim," he discreetly left out 'in the ocean', "it's how I keep myself sane." His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, checking traffic behind him as he waited for the oncoming cars to clear so he could turn right. Makoto looked slightly flustered, something Haruka found endearing. "Do what you want," he said, but the words were fond and lacked bite or dismissal. "You're the only one whose intrusion I would not just forgive but welcome."

The main Iwatobi downtown area was quiet and peaceful, any of the lunch crowd gladly back at their offices rather than outside. His favorite fish seller's sign was turned to 'open', it wouldn't hurt to stop on the way back. "Yes," he replied without preamble. "I have some movies, nothing scary." He glanced over at Makoto, eyes soft. "And I can make us dinner."

He slid the Vitz in near the fire station but still out of sight of the main areas. Discretion was a necessary evil. "So I'll see you tonight?" Haruka asked, reaching to nudge Makoto's hair with his fingertips before sneaking in to kiss him, slow and lingering, savoring the press of Makoto's mouth against his and bidding him a reluctant 'see you later'.

 

 

"You made lunch," Makoto argued, although he wondered if cooking was not just a job but stress relief for Haruka. He'd said something earlier about cooking for those he cared about. Certainly, Makoto wouldn't seriously object if that was the case. He'd need to tell his family he wouldn't be home until late, to eat without him, so he started to look for his cell phone, but Haruka interrupted him with that brush of hair, the gentlest kiss.

Face red but with a welcome heat that warmed him to his core, Makoto smiled against Haruka's mouth, hesitant to pull away but knowing he had to. He couldn't be late getting back to work. What if something happened, after all?

"Thank you again for lunch. And the cake. And...and everything else too." The kissing. Holding his hand. Coming back. The cards.  
  
Most of all, for loving him.

"I get off at eight," he informed as he took off his seat belt and opened the car door to get out. "I will see you tonight, Haruka. Please drive safely."

 

 

Haruka's gaze dipped downwards and he held his tongue. His rote 'it's nothing' reply seemed out of place when Makoto was thanking him, because he knew that to Makoto what he said (and what he didn't say) was miles from nothing to him. To them. Makoto's feelings were precious to him and he wanted to treat them with care.

Just as he wanted to treat Makoto with care.

"Dinner will be ready." His fingers twitched, yearning to reach out and touch where Makoto had just been, to try and capture some of his warmth left behind. Falling in love had made him needy in ways he'd never imagined, attaching to the smallest thing if it had to do with Makoto. The person just for him.

For him... _just_ for him...

"Makoto!" Haruka called right before he shut the door. "Wait! I...." He looked down, repeating _just for Makoto_ to himself. How much he wanted to give him something _just for Makoto_. His eyes - brilliant blue, shifting hues like the tides - rose to meet Makoto's. His mouth had only the faintest, fleeting smile, but his eyes shone with feeling. Haruka always said the most with his eyes.

"I want you to call me Haru. It's...a name just for you."

 

 

Haruka caught him before Makoto shut the door. He leaned down to meet Haruka's gaze, his own a little worried, brows upturned in concern. Haruka didn't normally raise his voice like that, so of course Makoto would think maybe something was wrong.

Instead, he received another gift. A name just for him.

Things like this were not given so freely. Makoto knew he was lucky to receive such a thing from a man like Haruka, a man who spoke so little but said so much, and the look in his eyes said it all. Instantly, Makoto's features softened, a smile blossoming across his face, his eyes closing the smile was so wide. " _Haru_ ," he said, half a breath and half a hum, both full of promise. "I will see you a little after eight, Haru."

The person just for him, with a name just for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! We really didn't mean for this to turn out as long as it did but we regret nothing. Please hit us up on tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Phoenicia](http://mienaihane.tumblr.com/)  
> [snarkyscorp](http://fuwafuwafic.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! We really didn't mean for this to turn out as long as it did but we regret nothing. Please hit us up on tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Phoenicia](http://mienaihane.tumblr.com/)  
> [snarkyscorp](http://fuwafuwafic.tumblr.com/)


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